


(Don't) Let Me Go

by Emmilyne



Series: Season 5 deviation-verse [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 5b fic, Angst, Canon compliant until 5x23, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Missing Moments, Reunion, Romance, Some Fluff, post season 5 hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 163,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: Felicity told him to let her go, but even when Oliver tried, it didn’t seem to be something he was capable of. In the end, there would be nothing in the world Felicity was more grateful for.Weaving in and out of the final four episodes of Season 5 and beyond, follow Oliver and Felicity’s emotional journey back to one another, one step at a time.AU after 5x23





	1. (No) More Apologies to Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter weaves in and out of the ARGUS med bay scene at the end of Arrow 5x20. The episode was damn near perfect, before going off the rails a bit at the end. So, I fixed it. For, you know, science.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys my attempt at a little pixie dust making everything better. I recognize that the topic of the break-up and reconciliation is a hot one in the fandom and there are people who will disagree with my fix-it, thinking one or the other one of them needs to apologize more or less. I feel this is balanced, though,(I have gone back and tweaked it with new eyes to improve this) and hope you agree.
> 
> Most of the original episode dialogue has been summarized and skimmed over to avoid redundancy and because this is already too damn long.

Oliver struggled to regain consciousness.  He didn’t have the luxury of staying passed out.

Of rest.

Of _death_.

Felicity was depending on him.  _Completely_.  A thousand bad choices on Oliver’s part had led to her being trapped underground, without the use of her legs, his most recent terrible decision causing him to bleed out and progressively become more and more useless.

Though…it _would_ be a peaceful way to die. 

And, after everything, would he really mind it?  Slowly bleeding to death, fading away in Felicity’s arms? 

Hearing her words of forgiveness…

Oliver could finally rest.

Except…

 _No_.

No…no…no… _no_ …

If Oliver didn’t get out of here, then _Felicity_ didn’t get out.  And that was… _totally_ unacceptable.

He could still hear the echo of Felicity’s words, “Let me go…”

NO!

Oliver shoved himself back into consciousness. 

He awoke with start, gasping for air.  And, immediately, there was a hand on Oliver’s chest, keeping him from sitting up, pushing him back onto the…mattress?

Blinking away the confusion, Oliver’s foggy senses took in the over-bright room, the far from lush pillow behind his head, the unfamiliar voices…

“It’s all right, Mr. Queen.  You’re safe in the ARGUS med wing.” 

It was a female voice and, while, it was probably a doctor or a nurse of some sort, Oliver hated waking up to strange voices.  He tried to push against her hand, it should be easy to break free but he was too weak.  Or too drugged.  _Fuck_.  Neither option was a good one.

“I’ve never seen a patient wake from anesthesia like _that_.”

“You haven’t had many with PTSD then.  Another year here and you’ll be amazed at what you see.” 

The second voice was male, also unfamiliar.  When Oliver’s finally managed to do their fucking job and focus, he saw that they were both in scrubs, surgical caps on their heads and masks hanging around their necks. 

So, the team had managed to get them out and to ARGUS.  That was good, except…

 _Where_ was Felicity?

And, _of course_ , Oliver was having an even harder time getting his mouth to form the words than getting his eyes to focus.  God _damn_ anesthesia.  He hated that shit.  He managed to swallow around his dry scratchy throat and tried to remember…

They had gotten out.  Oliver hadn’t let go.  He hadn’t let Felicity fall.  He had managed to pull her up.  And Digg pulled them _both_ out.  The team had gotten them out of the ventilation shaft and…

Oliver didn’t remember much after that.  He just hoped _those_ memories were real and not drug induced.

Wetting his lips, Oliver tried again, “Felicity?”  It was a pitiful croak and they probably thought he was calling one of them ‘Felicity’ which he sure as hell as not.  _Fuck_.  Frustrated, Oliver tried clearing his throat and asked again, “Felicity, ‘is okay?”

It came out pretty pathetic, but that was the least of Oliver’s worries and at least it made some semblance of sense.

Mr. Blue Scrubs seemed confused and just wrinkled his eyebrows at him.  It made Oliver feel pretty damn motivated to regain his strength, if only so that he could shove the idio out of the way and go find Felicity himself. 

But the lady doctor/person came through. “I think that’s the woman he came in with,” she whispered to her colleague.  “She’s fine, Mr. Queen.  No major issues.  Well, except for that paralysis, which I was told wasn’t new.  Actually, I was told it was a tech issue?”  And from her expression that was a new one for her.  She really _hadn’t_ been at ARGUS long.  “And since that’s not my department, your friend was brought to someone who could help.”

The wave of relief that followed was intense enough for Oliver to collapse back onto the bed from the weight of it.  He hadn’t even realized that he had managed to lift himself up in the first place, but…it didn’t matter. 

What mattered was it felt like Oliver could finally breathe again.

It was all okay now.  Felicity was fine.  Probably with Curtis, working on her chip.  And, of _course_ , Curtis would fix it.  He was a genius.  It was _his_ masterpiece.

Please God, let that chip be fixable.  _Quickly_ fixable.  Oliver hated the idea of Felicity being trapped in that chair for another minute.

His eyes flew around the austere room as he took stock and realized…he was still anxious.  Fuck.  He hated this.  It was a itch beneath his skin and sitting still was torture.  Being told by some stranger that she was okay wasn’t enough reassurance.  Oliver wanted… _needed_ to know _exactly_ where Felicity was. 

No, he needed Felicity _here_.  In front of him.  Right _the fuck_ now.  That was the only way Oliver would really believe she was okay.  And if she wasn’t okay…

“His heart-rate is kinda high,” the male idiot said.  

Oliver really hoped he wasn’t a doctor since… _idiot_. 

Also, no shit.  Oliver had a feeling that his heart-rate wasn’t going to get any better until he saw Felicity, preferably _walking_ , with his own two eyes. 

Oliver pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw.  He couldn’t ask.  Not anymore than he already had. 

It wasn’t his right. 

Not any longer.

Christ, a year ago it had been Felicity in a hospital bed, his _fiancé_ , and Oliver had avoided visiting her.  And at _that_ time, she had every right to want him there.  No, to _expect_ him to be at her side and, now, he was laying here…with no rights what-so-ever and…

He was _pathetic_.  But Karma really was a bitch. 

“He probably needs more pain medicine.”

Oliver’s eyes snapped open and flew to the tall man in the scrubs.  He’d been wrong.  That man wasn’t an idiot.  He was an _asshole_.

Leveling said asshole with his best Green Arrow stare, Oliver hissed, “ _No_.”

“Are you sure?” the woman asked, not sounding even a little impressed by his Arrow voice.  When the fuck had that stopped working?  “Your heart-rate is awfully high.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Oliver all but growled.  Then, realizing that they could be interpreting his tone as ‘in pain,’ he cursed himself.  The pain wasn’t even that bad.  But that feeling of being drugged…Oliver could feel that.  The foggy, blurry edge…God, he _despised_ that feeling.

Oliver started to argue further, trying for less vigilante and more mayoral, but the lady doctor walked to the door and called for someone named ‘Ruth’.

When an older woman with a no-nonsense expression walked in carrying a small IV bag, Oliver just about lost it.  They were giving him more drugs over his _dead body_.  After that fucking Methane, he was _so_ done being stoned.

“I said, ‘ _No_!’” Oliver snapped as this Ruth tried to grab his arm. 

Had Oliver said he was going to try a less Green Arrowy approach?  Fuck _that_!  That was _before_ they tried to drug him.

But Ruth was even less impressed than Dr. Lady.  She just tilted her head to the side and gave Oliver a hard stare over her glasses.  “I don’t think you want to refuse your antibiotic, Mr. Queen.  Mayors can’t do much good with Sepsis.  Neither can Vigilantes.”

Did everyone in ARGUS know about their ‘secret’ identities?

Also, Godd _amn_ it, Oliver really liked Ruth.  He had a soft spot for strong woman in glasses.

“Your large intestine was torn from whatever impaled you,” Asshole/Idiot said.  _Him,_ Oliver did _not_ like.  “We sewed it up without too much trouble, but you’ll need some really heavy-duty antibiotics.”

Ruth grabbed Oliver’s arm again and, this time, he let her do her job with only a petulant eye-roll in protest.  Though, if they tried to slip pain meds in there, heads were going to roll. 

The doctors-slash-medical people started telling him about the rest of his surgery and injuries, but Oliver wasn’t listening.  Her really didn’t care. 

He wasn’t dead.  That was good.  Really, that was all Oliver needed to know.

Now, all Oliver wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts.  The events of the last 24 hours were coming back to him and he…he _really_ needed to be alone to process it all.  

He could handle Thea or Digg, they’d know what to do.  To talk when he needed it and to sit in silence when he didn’t.  Or Felicity… _God_ , he wished Felicity was there.  She could say anything she wanted.

But Oliver couldn’t have that so…if everyone else could just leave him the _fuck_ alone that would be great.   

“I think Mr. Queen needs his rest.” 

That came from Ruth.  God, Oliver _loved_ Ruth.  She was definitely his favorite.

Oliver murmured, “Thank you,” and even managed a pleasant smile.  The effort paid off and it earned him a subtle wink over her fabulous glasses as Ruth ushered the other two out of the room.

When he was finally alone, Oliver blew out a breath and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.  He’d really thought this was it this time.  It had been a long time since he had been so certain he was going to die.

God, had Oliver really confessed… _everything_ to Felicity?  Told her about the real reason he had started killing?  Told her about the monster inside of him?

And…had Felicity actually _absolved_ him?

No, she hadn’t absolved him.  Because Felicity hadn’t actually _believed_ him.  Hadn’t believed that Oliver enjoyed killing.  Which he didn’t.  Not anymore, but once…

Maybe, Felicity was so used to seeing the best in him that she didn’t understand what Oliver had been trying to say.  Maybe, she was just too stubborn and too _good_ to believe it was true.  But…for the first time since the words left his mouth in Chase’s dungeon, Oliver considered the possibility that…that it _wasn’t_ true.  At least…

Well, there was a truth _to_ it.  Anatoli had seen it in him.  Oliver knew that he felt a thrill…especially early on in his vigilante career…a relief when he held someone’s life in his hands, someone _horrible,_ and he just… _ended_ it.  Ended it forever.

But now that Felicity’s words came back to him…maybe ‘liking it’ was an over simplification of something incredibly complicated.  And, maybe...just _maybe_ , Oliver had changed.  Wasn’t that man, that _monster_ anymore.

If Felicity, the smartest, most intuitive person he’d ever known could see a good man underneath…

After all, Felicity had seen Oliver at his worst, been a victim of some of his poorest choices…

Well, maybe, the monster wasn’t his core.  Maybe something else was.  Something worth finding.

And, maybe, Oliver’s crusade wasn’t a lie after all.

He was glad he told her.  Oliver couldn’t believe he’d found the courage to do it, but he was so very glad that he’d had the opportunity and the impetus…blood loss or gas or whatever.  Even if that was selfish…

 

But, no, Felicity _deserved_ to know.  Oliver hated the idea of her walking around thinking he didn’t trust her.  He’d always known it wasn’t true, but hadn’t the first clue how to convince her of that.  Until last night.

So, if this was enough to _finally_ prove to Felicity that Oliver trusted her, trusted her _far_ more than he trusted himself, then that alone was worth it.

“Hey.”

Oliver glanced up to see Lyla in the doorway.  Not the woman he most wanted to see, but it was good to see a familiar face.  And, also, someone who knew what the hell he was talking about when he asked about Felicity.

“Hey.  How’s—?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Lyla answered, cutting Oliver off with that straightforward way she had.  “And the Bunker didn’t blow up, you’ll be glad to know.”

Oliver managed to smile, even though that wasn’t _exactly_ the information he was looking for.

“How are you feeling?” Lyla asked, coming over to stand at his bedside and handing him the controls to the bed when Oliver struggled to find it.

“Fine,” Oliver muttered as he brought the bed into an upright position.  That was better.  He felt less like an invalid sitting up.  But when he looked at Lyla she was giving him a disbelieving expression and he just shrugged.  “Been worse.” 

A lot worse.  Rather recently, actually.

Lyla shook her head like she didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t press any further.  She knew better than that.  “Well, the team is outside.  You up for visitors?”

He was up for _one_.  As much as he loved them, the idea of dealing with Curtis or Rene right then made his skin crawl.  Swallowing, Oliver asked, “Is Felicity…?”

He wasn’t even sure how he wanted to end that sentence.  ‘Is Felicity out there too?’  ‘Is Felicity asking for him?’  ‘Is Felicity okay?’ ‘Is Felicity…?’

Lyla gave Oliver a knowing smile. Like she understood his mind better than he did.  It didn’t even irritate him.  Not when she offered, “Do you want me to send in Felicity?” 

Oliver swallowed, feeling guilty for asking for when he’d told himself he wouldn’t.  But so grateful to Lyla for offering, so he didn’t have to say it first. 

“Yeah.  Yeah.  I’d like that.”  Though, Oliver still didn’t feel like he had the right.

Squeezing Oliver’s hand, Lyla gave him one last smile.  “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

She was an incredible woman, Lyla Michaels.  Forgiving too.  After everything.

All Oliver could do was nod, his throat dry.  He should ask if Lyla was okay.  He wanted to know if…if _she and John_ were okay, but he couldn’t get anything else out.

And then Lyla was gone and Oliver watched his heart rate speed up on the monitor and, God-fucking- _dammit_ , the last thing he needed during a talk with Felicity was a monitor telling her exactly how he was reacting to every word. 

In frustration, Oliver tore off the horrible itchy hospital gown and the heart monitor leads.  _Then_ he realized that sitting there naked, waiting for Felicity was… _really_ not going to work. 

What was more, there was a bruise from where Felicity had shot him with adrenaline, right next the healing scars from the blow torch and…this was so not how Oliver wanted her to see him.  Not now.  Not yet.  Not…fucking hell!

Oliver swung his legs off the bed and—

“Ahhh.  Mr. Queen, don’t you look spry for a man who just flatlined?”

Wincing, Oliver looked up to see that it was the lovely Ruth waltzing in.  Thank _God_. 

Trying for the sort of smile that always worked on Raisa, Oliver asked, “Ruth, could I possibly trouble you for a t-shirt and…pants?” (Because he was equally naked under these covers.)

Ruth gave him a disapproving look and went to grab a clean hospital gown.  God, not _that_ again.  Nothing made Oliver feel more like an invalid than a hospital gown. 

“Is it all possibly to get a t-shirt instead or…?” Oliver searched his brain for a reasonable argument to avoid the gown.  Other than it was it was emasculating and he _hated_ it.

Again, Sargent Ruth, sent him _that_ look, one that Oliver was sure made grown men cower.  So, he was definitely not going with the emasculating argument.  He got the impression that she enjoyed doing that.

As Oliver waited for a recitation of a hundred and one reasons why hospital gowns were what they used and wondered if Ruth would get annoyed if he told her the gown was itchy.

But, then, Ruth surprised Oliver yet again.  Rolling her eyes, she came over to unhook his IV before giving him a white t-shirt and a pair of scrub pants.  He hadn’t even had to beg.  Which he was fully prepared to do, by the way.  He hated hospital gowns _that_ much.

Ruth was _defiantly_ his favorite. 

His face dissolving into a relieved smile, Oliver sighed, “Thank you _so_ much.”

Somehow, Ruth managed an even deeper eye roll.  “You’re going to be a difficult one, aren’t you?”

“I’m hoping that I won’t be here long enough to be difficult,” Oliver muttered, pulling on the shirt and trying not to cringe as his wound pulled.  _That_ was the reason they used hospital gowns, but the last thing he wanted to do was to give the lovely Ruth a reason to take his prize away.

“Humph.” Ruth re-hooked up the IV.  “Just don’t mess with this or you _will_ be here long enough for _me_ to become difficult.”

Oliver gave his best obedient nod (again, always worked on Raisa.  Well, it always worked on mom. It _usually_ worked on Raisa) and smiled pleasantly until Ruth was finished and had pulled the door closed behind her.

Then Oliver hurriedly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and struggled into the pants.  Pain be damned.  He wasn’t sure what was worse, Felicity walking in to find him half-naked or Felicity walking in to find him flat on the floor because he couldn’t stay upright while putting on his pants.

Both.  _Definitely_ both.

Yet, _somehow_ , Oliver managed to get the scrubs on and climb back under the covers.  He didn’t even reopen the wound.  He thought.  He _was_ sweating and short of breath.  And the pain…well, maybe, he’d agree to take a pill before he went to sleep.  But just one.

Then there was nothing to do but sit and wait.  Wait and sit. 

Where _was_ she?  Oliver had been worried that Felicity would walk in before he was done and now…Lyla had been gone longer than it took to go to a nearby room and send Felicity back.  Was something wrong?   Something with the chip or…maybe, she wasn’t feeling well? 

Maybe Felicity didn’t _want_ to see him?

Or, _maybe,_ he needed to stop being such an idiot.  Felicity would come when she came.  In the meantime, Oliver needed to at least try to _appear_ relaxed and figure out what the hell he was going to say once he got her here.

Once, Oliver had found Felicity the easiest person in the world to talk to.   In some ways, he still did, but…things had changed.  He hadn’t been able to talk to Felicity freely since…well, since he had killed her boyfriend.

Just thinking that sentence, Oliver felt that now familiar cold wave of hopelessness.  That was the day that his hope that they would eventually reunite had died a hard, painful death.

Maybe, that was Oliver’s punishment.  Maybe, he deserved it.  Even though it felt like the harshest fucking punishment anyone could have devised…

No, he couldn’t think that way.  It wasn’t true and even thinking it was inviting bad things to happen.  Felicity was alive.  Thea was alive.  _William_ was alive.  Oliver could handle being alone forever if the people he loved were safe.

Still, Oliver had to wonder if Chase had arranged him to kill Malone for exactly this reason.  That Chase knew that destroying any chance Oliver had with Felicity would kill something inside of him.

Yet, after last night…or this morning…or who the hell _knew_ …time had been meaningless in that dark basement…it didn’t matter what day it was, what was important was that he and Felicity had reconnected, talked, been more open with each other than they had been…since _ever_. 

Actually, Oliver didn’t think he had _ever_ been that open with someone.  Not after Lian Yu.  And…not before either.

Now, _everything_ was out in the open.  And Oliver had thought it would make everything worse, but…it didn’t feel worse.  It felt better.  It felt…free.  Of course, they had been fighting for their lives, so who knew how Felicity felt now, but...things _seemed_ different. 

This _could_ have been what they needed.  A few short months ago, Oliver would have hoped that maybe it was enough…

But after Billy, it was too little too late.

The most Oliver could hope to come from last night, now, was that their friendship could be healed.  If things could go back to the way they were before he had ruined it by bringing his stupid _feelings_ into that the mix…well, then that would be enough.  It would _have_ to be enough.

He heard the door and, immediately, Oliver’s hands started to itch with the need to touch her, to reach out and…

Oliver laced his hands together and placed them in his lap.  To keep himself from doing something stupid.  And if his knuckles turned white, surely, Felicity would blame that on the blood loss.

Rehearsing his ‘thank you’s in his head, Oliver…

She walked in tall and, _God_ , only his Felicity would walk in with heeled boots after being paralyzed for hours on end.

No, not _his_ Felicity.  Not anymore.  Even if Oliver would always think of her that way.

The relief at seeing Felicity walking again was a punch in the gut, stealing Oliver’s breath.  “You’re walking.”

Oliver couldn’t help but smile even as he took in Felicity’s worried, drawn expression.  Her face was streaked with soot and dried blood. Her clothing was ruined.

It was incredible how beautiful she looked.

And even more incredible was how relieved Felicity seemed to be at seeing Oliver.  True, the last time he had seen her the chances of him continuing to breathe weren’t looking all that good, but…the love in her eyes…no, that was just concern for a friend.  He couldn’t allow himself to think of it any other way.

Oliver made a stupid joke.  Made light of his injuries (even though he was well aware of how very close a call this one was).  All to keep himself from falling into that trap.  He remembered quite clearly how much it hurt when he had misinterpreted their little slip-up in the bunker this summer.

He remembered how it just caused Felicity to put even more distance between them.

But, then, Felicity slipped her hand into his and squeezed and…Oliver was really glad that Ruth hadn’t hooked him back up to those heart monitors.

Oliver pressed his thumbs to her fingers, holding them there, and…pushed ahead with the speech he’d been preparing in his head.  He needed to get it out before he got trapped into…hoping.

So he thanked Felicity for her beautiful words, the ones that were even now pulling Oliver back from the brink, the same way her words had pulled him back a thousand times before, taking something he had been so certain of and turning it upside down, giving him a completely new perspective.

It made Oliver wonder when he was going to learn.  If he just went to Felicity in first place, it would save so much time.  And pain.

But, then, _Felicity_ was apologizing and…

Oliver was thrown.  What did _she_ have to apologize for?  He kept thinking he should stop her.  Except, then Felicity mentioned Billy and Oliver had to wonder if she noticed the way his hands spasmed.

With guilt.

With jealousy.

With regret and that helpless feeling just the mention of Billy Malone brought Oliver.

But, then, before Oliver could even hope to be able to get a hold of _that_ , Felicity turned it all around, saying she _understood_.  Not about Billy.  About…about why Oliver had lied about William.

It was kind of amazing and a miracle and Oliver really wished she’d share because most of the time _he_ wasn’t sure why he had lied about William.  To her anyway.

But that didn’t mean that her absolution didn’t feel like fresh clean water flowing over his bruised and filthy soul.  And Oliver was just selfish enough to let it.  To hold his breath and let Felicity’s words heal him.

“You know how you said that you didn’t know what kind of person you are.  I think you should figure that out.”

Yeah, he should, but…

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver sighed her name, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. 

He…he wasn’t sure what kind of man he was, but Oliver knew that he _wasn’t_ the kind of man who could let Felicity take the blame for this.  Not when it was _entirely_ his fault. 

“You don’t have to absolve me for lying to you about William,” as good as that felt, “you were right.  I shouldn’t have lied.  I didn’t…”

Felicity sucked in a sharp breath and held it.  Oliver had a feeling that he knew exactly what she _thought_ he was going to say.

She was wrong. 

“I’m not going to say I didn’t trust you.” Oliver shook his head to emphasize that fact, praying that she would believe him.  “Because…I _know_ what I felt and the words ‘I don’t trust, Felicity,’ have never once crossed my mind.  Not _once_.”

Felicity’s face wrinkled up and Oliver wasn’t sure if it was in disbelief or disgust or just… _emotion_.  “Oliver—”

“Shhh.”  Because Oliver had to get this out before he lost his nerve.  “I didn’t interrupt your apology.”  And now with the joking.  Was this really the time for the joking?  Maybe, he had more pain meds than he thought in his blood stream.

But it made Felicity chuckle and squeeze Oliver’s hand, she may have even swayed toward him a bit so…maybe, joking was a good call after all.

“I’m getting a second apology in less than twenty-four hours?” Felicity teased, though Oliver could see tears in her eyes.  “And you’re not even dying…you’re not dying, are you?” 

That made Oliver huff out a laugh.  Felicity got him every damn time.  “No.  But it probably means you should let me finish.”

Felicity’s smile reached her shimmering eyes and she moved her free hand to make a locking motion over her lips and Oliver really, really wished that he had the right to kiss them again.  Not that he was doing this to regain that right.  Because that wasn’t going up happen.  Ever.  He’d accepted that fact.

Deep breath and…now Oliver had to actually follow through with his promise.  Hell.  Okay, time for that apology.  He better make it a good one too.

“I…I’m sorry, Felicity.  For lying to you.  For keeping things from you.  I…I wish…”  Oliver’s throat closed and he had to look away or he wouldn’t be able to finish.  “I wish I’d told you as soon as I found out about William, as soon as I _suspected_.  Before Samantha and her ultimatum.  Sometimes…” He let out a bitter chuckle. “Sometimes, I think Samantha’s demand was my punishment for not telling you right away.”

“ _Oliver_ —”

He kept talking.  He needed to keep up the momentum even if he didn’t have the heart to shush her again.  “I wish I could have been the kind of man you deserve.” The emotion in his voice was obvious now and Oliver could tell by Felicity’s indrawn breath that she wanted to stop him, so he spoke faster.  “The kind of man who wouldn’t shut down and retreat into himself when things get tough, locking away my… _feelings_ …”

And, _God_ , did it feel weird to say something like that out loud.  It went against decades of being groomed to keep those things buried deep.   “You deserve the kind of man who would have called you as soon as I saw a boy with Samantha in Jitters.”  Billy would have.  Oliver was sure of that.

“Oliver, I…I can’t even…” Felicity’s voice sounded almost as wrecked as his did.  She licked her lips and swallowed and all Oliver could do was stare and will himself to _not cry_.  “But…I fell in love with _you_.”

Oliver sucked in a breath, his eyes slipping closed and pushing those tears he hadn’t wanted to fall out.  God, every time Felicity said that it twisted him all up inside.

“I _knew_ what kind of man you were.”  Felicity held up her hand as if to keep him from arguing.  And Oliver _did_ want to argue, but to what end he had no idea.  “Even if you don’t know yourself.  And even _that_ …that you weren’t sure of who you were.  Even _that_ I knew.  That was what was so unfair of me.  I shut you out when I _knew_ …or at least _should_ have known that you were just doing something that was a part of who you were.  Something I had accepted long ago.”

Oliver _really_ wanted to protest now.  He was shaking his head almost continuously, but she looked so upset, so… _passionate_ about what she was saying that he just held her hand as tightly as he dared and tried to memorize every word.

“I knew you were damaged and I accepted that,” Felicity swore, pure emotion dripping from every word. “I loved who you _were_.  Not despite the damage, but _because_ of who it made you.  Which is why it was so unfair of me to keep saying I hoped you had changed or would change or should change…I fell in love with the man you were… _are_.  Not the man I wanted you to be.”

Oliver sucked in a breath.  It was too much.  So much more than he deserved.  “But…but you were right.” His voice was gravely and deep and it wasn’t from the damn surgery.  “You deserve so much better.”

“Oliver, that’s not true—”

“That’s why I let you walk away.” And if that sentence ended in a little sob, Oliver hoped Felicity would never tell.  “I knew…I _knew_ that you deserved better.  I think I’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.”

Felicity let out a small sob herself and covered her mouth with her hand.  Oliver wanted to comfort her, but his throat had closed up and he wasn’t getting anything else out without breaking down completely.

“ _Oliver_ …” Felicity’s voice and her hand trembled as she spoke.  “You need to stop putting me on this pedestal.”  She wiped at her cheek roughly.  “Haven’t these last several months shown you how _not_ perfect I am?”

But Oliver could only shake his head.  Nothing could ever show him that.

Felicity gave a little huff of frustration.  “You keep saying that you don’t want me to be like you.  Has it ever occurred to you that I might _want_ to be like you?  You’re my hero, Oliver.”

A sob ripped from Oliver’s throat.  He lost what fragile control he had and reached for her.

Felicity slipped seamlessly into his arms and Oliver buried his face in her hair.  Pressing his lips to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, he just breathed her in, until he finally trusted himself enough to speake again. “And you’re mine, Felicity.  You are mine.”

She let out the sweetest little whimper and burrowed closer.  Oliver wasn’t sure, but he thought, maybe, Felicity climbed up onto the bed to do so as she wrapped her arms more fully around his neck.

For what was probably the hundredth time (that day _alone_ ) Oliver had the to impulse to tell Felicity that he loved her.  He wanted to so badly that he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the words from spilling out. 

Because telling Felicity that…it felt like a burden.  One more thing for Oliver to heap on her slight shoulders.

Felicity may have said those words to Oliver a handful of times since they had broken up…the thing was hers always came with a ‘but.’  And…she was a loving person and he was never sure if she meant it as a friend or in past tense or…well, Oliver knew how _he_ meant it and _would_ mean it if the words ever escaped.  And she would know too. 

Because there would only ever be one meaning for Oliver when he expressed his love for Felicity Smoak. 

Truly.  Madly.  Deeply. 

Forever.  

 _God_ , how he loved her.

But Oliver wouldn’t…he _refused_ to put that kind of pressure on her.  Especially, when he knew that he would never love another woman.  At least not the way he loved Felicity.  It was selfish of him to try.  Susan had proved that with crystal clarity.

But, even though, Oliver couldn’t love Susan, it was clear that Felicity _had_ loved Billy. 

And Oliver had killed him.

Like a twisted version of an adolescent fantasy.  Like the man Chase accused Oliver of being.  A monster who had murdered the rival for the woman he loved, a man whose only sin was deserving her more.

“I’m sorry.”  Oliver sobbed it and it was pathetic and he hated it, but he couldn’t stop.  “I’m _so_ sorry.”

Felicity let out a watery laugh that was just… _musical_.  God, he was such a sap. If they ever came across a meta that could read minds Oliver was gonna be laughed out of the vigilante club.  

“Three apologies.  _Now_ , I’m getting worried.”  Felicity pulled back and cupped Oliver’s face, brushing away his tears (ugh, why couldn’t he stop _crying_?) with her thumbs and it felt far better than he deserved. 

Felicity was smiling and _her_ tears, somehow, just made her even more beautiful, her eyes shiny and her cheeks pink.

“What are you apologizing for now?”  Felicity’s voice was light, hopeful.  She had no idea.  God, she had _no clue_.

“I…”   Oliver had to force the words out.  “Billy.  I need to apologize for Billy.”  Felicity’s face fell and that made it even worse.  “I killed the man you love and sent you down this dark path and it’s my—”

Felicity’s hand slapped firmly over Oliver’s mouth, effectively stopping the painful recitation.  “Okay, stop.  This is something you are _not_ apologizing for,” she insisted fiercely.  “Because it is _not_ your fault.”

But Oliver shook his head.  Because it was.  It _was_.

“Oh Oliver.”  Felicity sighed.  “Scootch over.”  She pushed at his hip until he shifted, allowing her to settle onto the bed next to him. 

He felt a sharp stab of pain from his wound when he moved, but it was easy enough to hide since he was sure he was looking rather wrecked.  Oliver breathed through his nose and tried to gain some measure of self-control.  The more upset he appeared, the more Felicity would try to comfort him and he didn’t deserve to be comforted.  Not for this.  Whatever she had to say—

“I didn’t love Billy.”

Okay, Oliver wasn’t expecting her to say _that_.

And the hope that skyrocketed in response was fucking dangerous.  To his _soul_. 

“You don’t have to say that,” Oliver asserted, trying to stop this from going down a very precarious path.  “I know you would never have done what you’ve done to get Chase if you—”

“Chase killed Billy because of _me_ ,” Felicity confessed in a rush and, looking at her face, Oliver had no doubt she believed it.

Believed that _bullshit_.  Christ, had Felicity really been beating herself up about this all this time?  Why hadn’t Oliver seen it?

“That’s…that’s _ridiculous_.  Felicity…”  Don’t call her ‘honey’.  Or ‘sweetheart’.  Or ‘baby’.   Just _don’t_.  “Nothing could be further—”

“Oliver,” Felicity cut him off with a sigh.  “I chose to date Billy and I kept dating him despite the fact that I’m on Team Arrow.”

 _On_ Team Arrow?  Felicity _was_ Team Arrow.  But that didn’t mean—

This time, Felicity stopped _him_ before Oliver got a chance to protest.  “Which is something I _chose_.  I chose to be on this team.  To make it the center of my life.  But I _still_ brought Billy into it.  Despite, the fact that I _didn’t_ love him.  That I knew he had deeper feelings for me than…and, even though, I _knew,_ deep down, mine were _never_ going to match his—”

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty…”_   Oliver grabbed her hands, knowing he should be arguing against this ridiculous self-blame, but there was a part of him, a selfish _ugly_ part of him that was lapping up her words like ambrosia.

“I couldn’t even call him my boyfriend,” Felicity confessed, her voice cracking.  “But he was a good man and safe and,” she laughed bitterly, “one of the most well-adjusted people I know… _knew_.  And dating me got him killed.”

Okay, that was enough.  Was _this_ what Oliver sounded like all the time?  “Felicity, Billy was a _cop_.  Chase was targeting cops.  Billy died because he went after Chase without back-up.”

Felicity’s expression changed from one of grief and guilt to challenge in a heartbeat.  She gave Oliver a look…

Ah _hell_ , he’d walked right into that one. 

“So, you’re saying it wasn’t _your_ fault?”

Oliver pressed his eyes closed for a moment.  Felicity had trapped him cleanly and efficiently with that one.  “Did you say all that just to—?”

“No,” she insisted immediately, shaking her head.  “ _No_.  I just wasn’t going to let the opportunity go by…” Felicity gave him a small smile, but then she swallowed and her smile wavered.  “My point was that while I cared for Billy and I _do_ genuinely grieve him…”

“I know,” Oliver assured, because it seemed like it was important to Felicity that he understood that.

Felicity nodded, looking slightly relieved.  “But my drive to get Chase was… _is_ more out of guilt than love.”  She let out a soft grunt and harsh laugh.  “Sound familiar?”

Oliver couldn’t do anything but give her a wry half-smile.  “Yeah, it does.”  The big difference was how much more self-aware Felicity was.  It had taken her a few short months (or less) to realize something he had deflected and denied for _years_.

But apparently, Felicity was having trouble seeing that.  “We’re more alike than you realize.”

Oliver couldn’t help but fear that it was more of a contagion, something he had done _to_ her.  “I hate that there is darkness inside of you that wasn’t there before.  Because of me.”  Just like Chase said.

“No, Oliver.”  And now Felicity just looked tired.  “It’s because of _me_ and _my_ choices.  Because of Havenrock—”

Was that still tormenting her?  “Felicity, you saved millions— _billions_ that day—”

But she didn’t let Oliver speak.  “It’s because the life that I… _we_ chose comes with consequences.  We can’t fight the darkness without taking some of it on ourselves.  It’s just the way it works.  It doesn’t even matter why anymore.  It’s a part of me now.  Just like it’s a part of you and…” Felicity took a deep breath, visibly gathering her strength.  “And if we are going to move forward together…”

And, wow, that took the wind out of him.  Felicity couldn’t possibly be saying what it sounded like she was saying.  Oliver held his breath.

“…then we both need to accept that this is a part of us.  We can’t…we can’t just love the good parts…the pretty parts.  That’s not how love works.”

 _“Fe-li-ci-ty…”_  

Oliver clutched her hands, not sure what to say.  His mind was spinning and he was just a little bit terrified, because it sounded like…it _sounded_ like Felicity was giving him another chance…opening that door again and…he was really, _really_ afraid he was going to mess this up.

“Can you…do you think you can do that?” Felicity asked shyly.

And Oliver was honestly taken-aback.  Do what?  Love _all_ of her?  He couldn’t help but laugh.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I can do that.”

Felicity’s smile was… _so_ beautiful.  She turned her hands in Oliver’s, lacing their fingers together.  It felt so much more intimate that way.  Mind-blowingly intimate.

“No more pedestals?” Felicity asked hopefully.

And Oliver had to laugh again.  He was starting to feel a little light-headed.  Had Ruth snuck something into that IV bag after all?  “Well, I can _try_.  That one will be a _lot_ harder.”  Because he really couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t think Felicity was perfect.  Darkness or not. 

Thankfully, Felicity’s smile didn’t waver.  “That’s all I can ask for.”

That was good.  Real good.  But…

Okay…so what _exactly_ was going on?  It really seemed like Felicity was giving him a second (or tenth) chance.  Were they agreeing to try again?  Oliver was afraid to ask.

Reaching out, Oliver cupped her cheek, testing the waters, and when Felicity clasped his hand, holding it closer, closing her eyes and leaning into him, he…

Wow.  Okay.  Whatever this was, it was a good thing.  Oliver was sure of that.

But was Oliver allowed to tell Felicity he loved her?  Was he allowed to…?  Shit, could he _kiss_ her?  Was _that_ okay?  It had been so long.  _Too_ damn long.

Felicity opened her eyes and wet her lips…but that was a nervous lip wetting, not a ‘kiss me’ one.  Unfortunately.

“So…if we are going to this, I have another confession.”

Oliver almost didn’t hear the word ‘confession.’  His brain had come to a full stop at the phrase ‘ _do this_.’ Because it sounded like ‘this’ was get back into a relationship.  But, really, it could be a lot of things and he really didn’t want to jump to conclusions. 

But Felicity just kept talking, unaware of Oliver’s brain’s frantic misfiring.  “I think I finally realized…or _let myself_ realize why I’ve been avoiding talking about… _us_ for so long.”

Us. 

Felicity just said ‘us.’  Wow.  Okay, now she had Oliver’s _full_ attention. 

Not that she didn’t before, but…Oliver had kinda thought this _was_ ‘the talk.’  Was there more ‘talking’?  Was Felicity expecting him to say or explain something… _else?_  Because he really couldn’t think of anything more he wanted to say. Or was supposed to say.  A little niggle of panic settled into his stomach.  He’d almost forgotten how hard this relationship thing was.

“You may have noticed that it’s weird for me to avoid talking about, well, _anything_ ,” Felicity told their combined fingers, laced together in his lap.  She was acting strange, nervous.

And now that Felicity mentioned it, it _did_ seem weird.  Though, Oliver had just thought… “I just thought you were done with me.”  Even now, it was hard as fuck to say those words out loud.

Felicity deflated, her eyes becoming sad.  “Oliver, I was never _done_ with you.  Even when I thought I was and _said_ I was and…I don’t think I could _ever_ be _done_ with you.”

This time Oliver tried something new.  He squeezed her fingers and just let the hope come.

“What I was doing,” Felicity continued, “was _avoiding_.  Yup.  Epic avoidance.  Not just with you.  With my mom.  Curtis.   _Myself_.  And I was being a hypocrite.

She needed to stop saying that.  No, she needed to stop _believing_ that.  “Felic—”

Her hand came up to stop him.  “Let me tell you _why_ I’m a hypocrite, before you try to tell me it’s not true, okay?”  Her tone was light…but Oliver could only frown.  He stayed quiet, out of respect, but he didn’t like it and Felicity could tell since she gave him an eye-roll. 

But she quickly turned serious again.  Serious and nervous.  “I’m a hypocrite because…I _left you_ because you didn’t trust me, when in reality…” Felicity gave an audible swallow.  “I didn’t trust you.”

Well, _that_ was a kick to the gut.  If this was what Felicity felt at the mere _idea_ that Oliver didn’t trust her…wow.  Now he knew why she was so upset.

“I didn’t trust you not to…” Felicity’s voice cracked and her eyes found the celling as she visibly struggled with herself.  “I didn’t trust you not to leave me.”

Oliver’s breath hissed on the inhale.  He hadn’t been expecting that.  It…he…it caught him completely off guard.  

Yet…maybe, it shouldn’t have. 

“Felicity, honey…” Oliver didn’t even know where to start. 

“I think that I thought that if you weren’t willing to share _everything_ with me, then clearly you weren’t invested enough to stay.  You know, since _nobody_ stays and—”

Jesus Christ!  “That is _not_ —”

But Felicity was in full-on babble mode now.  Her words getting faster by the moment.  “It was always in the back of my mind, you know, that you would leave, like my dad left, like Cooper left.  So when you left William…I mean, I know you didn’t _leave_ William.  You sent him away, but it _felt_ the same…”

If the other was a kick to the gut then this was a knife.  Oliver had trouble breathing after that particular blow. 

“And, I know, that isn’t fair and that you didn’t _want_ to send William away,” Felicity’s voice cracked.  Her words were so fast and so full of emotion, Oliver was certain that he wouldn’t have understood half of them if he didn’t know her so well.  “And, maybe, my father didn’t _want_ to leave me and, maybe, Samantha was just doing what mothers do, trying to keep her kid safe.  Just like my mom and…wow, the similarities are kind of freaky, huh?”

It took Oliver a minute to realize Felicity had ground to a full stop and she was looking at him with tears running down her face, waiting for a response and he…what the _hell_ was he supposed to say to all _that_? 

“Yeah.  Yeah, it is.”  Oliver wondered if it was his imagination or if he truly did sound out of breath.  His stomach was still rebelling from all the metaphorical blows and…how had he not made these connections before?  He knew he wasn’t nearly as smart as her, but…God, how could he have been so selfish as to not to realize?  “I’m sorry.”

Felicity shook her head, her free hand waving dismissively.  “It was just my stupid childhood… _issues_ —”

“No.  For not realizing…or _remembering_ that you had that fear.” Oliver felt so _stupid_.   “You always seem so strong.  So much more emotionally… _competent_ than me.  I forget.  I should have been more aware.  I...God…and I abandoned you after you were shot…”

Felicity winced, turning her head away.  It told Oliver all he needed to know and then some. 

This particular guilt brought a wave of nausea and Oliver cursed himself.  “And I wasn’t there for you when your father came back and he—”

That pulled Felicity’s eyes back to his.  She shook her head, reaching out to cup his cheek.  “Thea was _dying_ , Oliver.  I’m not telling you _any_ of this to blame you or to…I’m just trying to explain—”

Oliver grabbed her hands, pulling them toward him, holding them to his chest as he told her fiercely, “Felicity Smoak, I will _never_ leave you.  Not willingly.  Not _ever_.  I swear it.”

Tears fell freely down her face, leaving trails in the soot, but Felicity smiled.  “Not even for my own good?”

Felicity always did go for the jugular. 

“Well, you’re always telling me that it’s your choice.”

That earned Oliver a chuckle.  Thank God.  “Damn straight.”

“Even if you _ask_ me to leave…”  Okay, that seemed creepy stalkery and Oliver rushed to add, “I’ll always be there for you.  Even if we’re not together.”  Was that too presumptuous?  Was he implying they _were_ getting back together?  “Or…”  

Then Oliver had a flash of a memory. 

“And what was _that_ down there?” The rush of anger Oliver felt thinking about it was actually strangely stabilizing compared to all the other emotions he’d had to deal with in the last few hours.  “‘ _Let me go_?’ What the _hell,_ Felicity?”

Felicity laughed.  Which was so _not_ an appropriate answer.  “You were bleeding out.  I really didn’t want you to die with me.”

That made it absolutely not even _slightly_ better.  “You can’t seriously believe that I would have _purposely_ let you go?”  Even the idea struck terror in Oliver’s chest.  So much more so than the idea of bleeding out.

Still smiling, Felicity shook her head.  “I didn’t really.  It was mostly a gut reaction.”

Well, that was one gut reaction Oliver could live without.  “Don’t even think about it.  If you’d…” He shuddered, closing his eyes, trying to will away the image of Felicity falling from behind his eyelids.

When Oliver opened them again Felicity was still smiling.  Clearly, she was not taking this seriously enough and he scowled.

“What?” Felicity laughed, picking up on his irritation.  “You can sacrifice yourself for me, but I can’t sacrifice myself for you?”

Oliver thought about that for a minute.  The double standard.  The hypocrisy of it.  “Yes, yes that’s exactly it.” 

This was one hypocrisy Oliver could live with. 

Felicity, clearly, didn’t agree and she gasped (though it was half-laugh) and smacked his shoulder.  “ _Oliver_!”

And it was so normal, so _them_ that Oliver smiled.  “ _Ow_!  I just had major surgery, Felicity.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Such a baby.” 

But, then, to Oliver’s complete and utter shock, Felicity leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the spot where she had hit him.  He managed to keep himself from gasping out loud, but he was quite certain his eyes were wide as saucers.

Thankfully, Felicity couldn’t see his undoubtedly comic expression, because she had laid her head on Oliver’s shoulder and her hand on his heart (right below where that damn bratva tattoo _used_ to be), relaxing against him. 

“God, I’m so tired.”

Her words triggered a rush of affection and Oliver smiled into Felicity’s hair.  “Then rest,” he whispered, wondering if he was being too presumptuous to suggest it.

But Felicity just kicked off those ridiculous boots and swung her legs onto the bed beside him and Oliver could have cried (not literally.  He was done with the blubbering), it was so wonderful. 

Swallowing, Oliver carefully pulled her glasses off her face and laid them on the rolling table next to the bed.  Felicity snuggled closer and it felt like he took his first clear clean breath in…a _very_ long time.  He rubbed his cheek against her hair and…what did all of this mean?

Resting his hand on the small of her back, over her chip, Oliver tried to process everything that had just happened.  The conversation.  Felicity lying there with him.  Everything.

And as Oliver went over it in his head, for the first time, in a very _long_ time, hope didn’t feel futile.  In fact, _this_ felt like a new beginning.  An open door.

Was it up to Oliver to walk through?

Swallowing, he asked, “Felicity?”

“Hmm?” 

Her response was just a sleepy hum and Oliver couldn’t help but smile.  He imagined Felicity was having a pretty significant adrenaline crash.  Though, for his part, Oliver was afraid that if he fell asleep, somehow, everything would have gone to crap by the morning. 

“Hypothetically, if I…um…if I were to tell you I loved you, you wouldn’t feel pressured or anything, would you?”

Felicity froze for a second and the butterflies in Oliver’s stomach kind of…went a little bonkers, but then she looked up at him with the sweetest smile and said, “Nope.”

Wetting his suddenly dry lips, Oliver let out a breath.  “I love you.”

Her face crinkled up with emotion and, for a moment, Oliver was afraid that she was going to start crying again.  But, then, Felicity took a deep breath and rasped, “I love you, too.”

It was so quiet that Oliver almost felt like he was reading her lips, but for the first time since Felicity had found out about William, he didn’t hear a ‘but’ lingering just beyond the surface.

Oliver really didn’t trust himself to speak after that.  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, but wasn’t about to tempt fate by asking for anything more.

It seemed to be a good choice, because Felicity hummed happily and yawned.

“Rest, hon.”  The endearment slipped out before Oliver could stop it, but Felicity just nodded and snuggled closer so, maybe, that was an okay thing to do again as well.

Oliver smiled.  He laid there, enjoying the weight of Felicity against him.  He was just starting to dose when…

His eyes snapped open.

Chase.

 _Fuck_.

Oliver had forgotten why he and Felicity had been locked down in the Bunker in the first place.  Chase’s evil fucking plan had worked.  _Again_.

“Felicity?  Are you asleep?”

Felicity looked up at him, her face concerned.  Clearly, she had picked up on Oliver’s shifting mood, despite his trying to keep his tone calm and steady. “Not yet.”

Oliver blew out a breath, he needed to stop panicking, and met Felicity’s eyes.  “In the morning, do you think you could…help me find William?”

Immediately, Felicity’s face melted into a reassuring smile and Oliver felt infinitely better.  “I can do it now if you want,” she offered even though exhaustion was written on her every feature.

Part of Oliver wanted to say ‘yes.’  Now that he had made this decision, he wanted to act.  To know where his boy was.  To make sure he was all right.  But neither of them were in any shape to _act_ on anything.

Shaking his head, Oliver murmured, “Rest first.”

Felicity nodded and settled back in.  Tightening his arms around her, Oliver closed his eyes and tried to sleep himself.

Surely, one more night wouldn’t hurt.

 


	2. (Delicious) Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  Chapters 2 and 3 take place toward the end of Arrow 5x21: Honor Thy Father, when the team goes out drinking after capturing Prometheus. 
> 
> I can’t resist the opportunity to write these guys just a little bit drunk. These next three chapters are rather light in comparison to the ones coming up (this one in particular), since those will follow 5x23. I hope you enjoy a little bit of fluff before the flood of angst. :-) 

 

 

“To keeping our eye on the future and making it better!” 

Oliver raised his glass, or rather his bottle, and there was a murmured round of agreement and clinking of glass.

Felicity felt the words expand inside her and she smiled so hard it almost hurt.  Not that anything _could_ hurt what with the copious amount of alcohol running through her veins.  Actually, her face was just a tad bit numb.  But…

“To the future!!” she echoed, probably louder than was strictly necessary, but Oliver’s answering grin made Felicity feel rather melty inside (she swore that _wasn’t_ the alcohol) and there was more glass clinking.

Felicity was the only one holding one of Rick’s (the owner and bartender) delicious mixed drinks.  It was something that he had created just for her and whose name she had forgotten.  They were on their third (maybe forth?) round.  The others had started with bourbon and moved on to beer, but since this was Oliver’s round it was an expensive craft beer.

One could take the boy out of the mansion, but they couldn’t take the mansion out of the boy.  A Queen was a Queen was a Queen was a Queen.  But, right now…well, Felicity wouldn’t have Oliver any other way.  In fact, she couldn’t come up with a single thing she would change about him.  She didn’t even think that was the booze talking.

Everything Oliver had said and done over the last week…Felicity was so _proud_ of him, so damn _in love_ with him…that she could just _float_ (though _that_ may be just the booze).

Felicity had spent the better part of a year trying, _desperately_ , to make herself fall _out_ of love with Oliver and, when that didn’t work, trying to forget.  Or, at the very least, not _obsess_ over being head over heels for her gorgeous ex (who she worked with and saw every _fraking_ day). 

Fighting it had been damn painful and a losing battle that had felt like it would eventually destroy her.  But, sitting on that hospital bed in the ARGUS medical bay, Felicity had decided to…stop fighting.  To try understanding.  Him.  Her.  To understand and forgive and…

It was amazing how one seemingly small decision (through, she was very aware how _not_ small it was) could be so freeing.  And now…Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she had been this happy.

Actually…yes, she could.  It was their engagement party. 

In many ways, that night had felt a lot like this one.  Oliver and Felicity, surrounded by their friends and family, sharing a rare moment of celebration in an otherwise insanely high stress life.  Of course, instead of craft beer and mysterious mixology there had been champagne and…well, Felicity had still been in a wheelchair.

Was it ironic that the last time Felicity could remember being truly happy she had been paralyzed?

But, maybe not, because that had been the night that Curtis had given Felicity the stimulator and they…her and Oliver…had both been filled with so much _hope_.  Funny how hope could create as much joy as reality could.  The future had looked awfully bright that night.

It didn’t look too shabby tonight either.  Hello hope, her old friend.  Felicity had missed her.  Because, tonight, everything just felt so…

Felicity wasn’t sure.  She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt anything quite like _this_ before.  This hopeful anticipation.  But, no…it was _beyond_ hope.  Felicity had _confidence_ in the future (well, in her and Oliver’s future as a couple).  And, even though, they weren’t _technically_ back together just yet, there was this… _hum_ …this _knowledge_ that it was coming.  Just over the horizon.  Waiting patiently for the two of them to take those next few steps.

It made the journey…well, this last bit if it…kind of delicious.  Felicity thought that, maybe, she had read about this sort of thing.  This excitement, being on the precipice of a relationship, looking forward to each small step with heightened anticipation, but she had never experienced it before.

In college, Felicity would have scoffed at such a…fluffy _cheerful_ idea (she’d been such a moron) and her and Oliver…well, they’d gone from I’ve-lost-you-forever to run-away-with-me in less than twelve hours, with zero time to process the change, never mind enjoy the anticipation.

And every _other_ significant romantic relationship Felicity had experienced…well, they had always been colored by the fact that she was kinda sorta helplessly in love with Oliver the entire time.

She was so lost in her thoughts, happy as they were (which was weird because she was thinking about some not so great times in her life) that Felicity didn’t notice Oliver approach until he was close.  Like right on top of her, breathing the same air… _close_. 

Felicity might even say _too_ close.   _If_ there was such a thing as _too close_ when it came to Oliver and his proximity to her body and…

So, not too close.  Nope.  Not at all.

Licking her lips, Felicity looked up at him and smiled (he was near enough that she had to look _up_ , even in her four inch heels).  Oliver had a teasing look on his face and his eyes were bright.  Bright in every sense.  Intelligence.  Happiness.  Color.  God, the blue of his eyes…it was unfair that he had that body _and_ those eyes.  It gave him too much of an advantage over the female population.

With a small, playful smile, Oliver reached over and closed his hand around Felicity’s where it held her martini glass (very precariously as a matter of fact).  He lifted her glass, and her hand with it, to his nose and sniffed.

And, honestly, Felicity would have protested the presumptuousness of it…if she wasn’t so _thrilled_ by the presumptuousness of it.  And, then, Oliver upped the ante by tipping the glass and taking a small sip.

It wasn’t Oliver’s touch that was unusual.  That hadn’t been taboo, well, ever.  And after getting stuck in Bunker together, the small, casual touches were back and becoming more and more frequent.  But, manipulating Felicity’s body like this, taking a sip of _her_ drink, placing his lips where hers had been just moments before… _that_ was a whole other level of intimacy.

Wow, this was something Felicity had… _really_ missed.  And that feeling in her stomach, all warm an aroused and excited, she hadn’t felt _that_ in a really long time and, boy, was it welcome. 

But it was distracting.  Distracting enough that she didn’t notice Oliver turning to the bartender until it was too late.  “Rick, next round go _real_ light on the strong stuff for Felicity, would you?”

“Will do, Mr. Mayor,” Rick immediately called back, even adding a wink.  He just loved having the mayor relax in his bar (as rare as it was).  Or, maybe, it was that Rick’s granddaughter had been saved by the Green Arrow a year or so back and Felicity was pretty damn certain that the old man had put two and two together.   

It took Felicity a moment to remember that she shouldn’t be allowing this. Presumptuous in touching was one thing.  _That_ she encouraged.  Making decisions for her, telling her when not to do something (like get blindingly drunk if she so desired)…not to be allowed under any circumstances. 

“Hey,” Felicity managed to snap at Oliver (though it was a pretty weak snap, since she felt no anger what-so-ever).  She gave him a (light) shove to his shoulder, which made Oliver move…not at all. 

Which was good, really.  Very good.  

“I’m totally fine, Rick,” Felicity called out and she didn’t even slur.  “You make your yummy concoctions any way you want and ignore Mr. Bossy pants.  He forgets he hasn’t been the boss of me in years.”

“Ha,” Oliver huffed with a soft laugh. “As if I was _ever_ the boss of you.”  Then he turned his sweet gentle smile on her and, seriously, it was much more dangerous a weapon his damn bow, and whispered, “Felicity, you were standing here giggling to yourself.”

She tried for indignant huff, but it came out as a… _giggle_.  Felicity slapped her free hand over her mouth to keep the rest of them from bubbling out and proving the adorable ass right, but it only managed to trigger a full belly laugh from Oliver.

“Strike that, Rick.  Nothing but fruit juice and Sprite from now on.”

“No fair!”  Then Felicity realized that she still had her hand over her mouth so it sounded more like ‘noomare’ and removed the offending appendage to yell, “Rick, you will _not_ listen to Mayor No-Fun.  If I wants the alcohols, you will give me the alcohols.”

Oliver’s chest was shaking with barely controlled hilarity, his eyes all wrinkled up and sexy…damn him.

Felicity stuck a finger out and poked Oliver in the chest, but it was really hard to get a good poke in because Oliver was just _that_ close to her.  And she saw absolutely _no benefit_ in taking a step back.  “What do you think you are doing?  You are _not_ the mayor of me!”

Still fighting a smile, Oliver leaned even closer and, dear _heavens,_ he smelled good.  Felicity’s heart was doing that fluttery thing.  How she’d _missed_ that fluttery thing. 

“Actually, since you live in Star City, I think I _am_ the mayor of you.”

Oh.  Yeah.  That made sense.

Hmm.  The mayor of her.  That was…kinda really sexy.  Felicity could work with that.  She would have to file _that_ away for later.

For now, Felicity argued (it was a matter of principle at this point.  Plus…kinda fun.), “Well, that doesn’t mean—”

“And I’m just looking out for my... _teammate._ ” Oliver’s voice was low and smooth, as if that bourbon he’d drank had transfigured itself into words that were determined to make her even drunker, to wash any argument…any _thought_ …from Felicity’s head.  “And only a _very_ drunk Felicity Smoak giggles.”

Felicity’s teeth clamped over her lower lip to keep herself from doing _just that_ and hoped she didn’t break skin because face… _numb_.  So not so easy to tell if she was biting too hard.  But the familiarity and the closeness and the… _Oliver.._. 

Why were there so many people around?

It was actually just the team and Rick at this time of night on a Wednesday, but still…yeah, _far_ too many people.

“That’s not true,” Felicity protested.  Though, it was very much true and they both knew it.

Oliver lifted an eyebrow, an eyebrow that was far too sexy for his own good, never mind hers.

“Felicity Smoak does not…” Oh dear God, now _she_ was talking in third person.  “ _I_ do not need to be _very_ drunk to giggle.  All I need to be is—”

“Moderately drunk?” Oliver suggested cheekily and Felicity managed an eye-roll. 

God help her when Oliver was in a playful mood.  Felicity loved every precious second of it, but it would be the death of her.  “Tipsy.  Felicity Smoak only needs to be _tipsy_ to giggle.”

Oliver gave her a shit-eating grin that was so beautiful that it made her dizzy.  “What does she need to be to talk in third person?”

“God _damn_ it!”  He just _had_ to observant, didn’t he?

Oliver’s laughter flowed over and around them and it was really hard to be annoyed when it was such a rare and beautiful sound.

Felicity tried her best though.  “Look here…” She tried to shake a finger at Oliver, except… “Ooops.”

She kinda sorta shook the finger attached to the hand that was holding her martini glass.  And, since martini glasses were _not_ the best design for keeping the alcohol _inside_ the glass, Felicity’s lovely drink went sloshing over the side.

Considering, Oliver was intent on cutting Felicity off from her supply, she really couldn’t risk losing one precious drop. So, as it went cascading over the rim of her glass, she dove for the dribble of deliciousness, catching it with her tongue.

Oliver’s laughter came to an abrupt halt and Felicity looked up from her task to see that his eyes were now very intent on her glass.  Well, maybe, not her glass so much as where her lips and tongue made contact with said glass.

His eyes darkened and intense. _..ified_ and Oliver may even be breathing hard and Felicity really, _really_ wanted to smile.  That cat that got the cream smile. 

But then Felicity would have had to stop what she was doing, which…not gonna happen.  Not until she had slurped up every last drop.  And maybe, ‘accidentally’ spilled some more (just for fun) and started all over again. 

There was music on in the background and the rest of the team was a bit rowdy, but Felicity was pretty certain that she heard Oliver growl.  That low and gravely growl that she hadn’t heard in forever, but would never forget because she could always feel it deep in her core. 

Oliver was the only man on earth that could make a sound that felt like a caress.  It left Felicity pressing her thighs together and, maybe, just a bit short of breath herself.

Once she’d lingered as long as she could, lapping up the spilled liquid, Felicity look a long, slow sip of her drink, making sure to catch Oliver’s eyes and hold them as she did.

And that eye contact…wow…Felicity almost shuddered.  The way it made her feel…hot and tingly.  Adored and loved.  And _so_ fraking turned on…

So _this_ was eye sex than.

Because Felicity thought that, perhaps, she was about to have an eye _orgasm_.

“Want some?” Felicity held her drink out to Oliver and, huh, was that _her_ voice?  It was kinda sexy.  Good on her.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ ….”

It was a warning.  She was certain of that.  It was also one that Felicity had absolutely no intention of heeding.  (And she was pretty certain Oliver was hoping that she wouldn’t).

Then the side of Oliver’s lip quirked up, lightening his expression and…it wasn’t just heat he was looking at her with.  The depth of emotion underneath was just… _damn_ …

Felicity thought, maybe, she could happily stand here like this forever, with the two of them just looking…no, _gazing_ at each other.

God, she’d missed this.  Felicity had never fully appreciated it until now, but she would never—

“Curtis, dude, you _suck_!”

Rene’s loud (and obnoxious) voice broke the spell.  And Oliver’s focus.  His eyes flew to their teammates and, trying not to pout, Felicity’s followed.

But, then, Felicity had to shake her head a little to clear it.  It really _felt_ like coming out of a spell.  What had she been thinking?   Another 30 seconds and Oliver was going to have to ask for the room and…well, were they ready for that?

Don’t get Felicity wrong.  It would be _awesome_.  But…

“I mean, I didn’t think you’d be _good_ ,” Rene ranted, either oblivious or completely uncaring of what he had interrupted.  “But this is beyond, suck, Hoss.  This is being a menace to the bar-attending community.”

“That is just uncalled for!” Curtis snapped back, turning to Digg for reinforcement.

But John just gave the younger man a single raised eyebrow, his arms crossed and his smile wry, “Normally, I’d agree, but, man, that is some really, _really_ bad aim.”

It took Felicity a minute to realize that they were talking about a game of darts.  Seriously?  All this ruckus over a stupid bar game?  Did they not see the very important flirting and _gazing_ going on over here? 

Blinking her eyes to focus them, Felicity was able to make out Rene’s green tipped darts scattered around the dart board and one red dart at the very edge.  Frowning, she scanned the pillar the dart board was hung on and… _duuuude_ …

Was that a dart in the back of a chair?  _So_ not safe.

And, really, this was why dart boards belonged on walls not pillars.  Felicity was no expert, but common-sense, people.  They were taking drunk people.  With flying projectiles.  She was going to have to have a talk with Rick. 

Also, as a card-carrying member if Team _Arrow_ , Curtis should be _extremely_ embarrassed.

Oliver certainly seemed to agree (about the safety issue _and_ Curtis’ shame), because he stalked over to the chair, pulled out the dart, and turned to Curtis with a look…well, Felicity knew _that_ look.  _She_ was never on the receiving end of _that look_ (thank God), but Roy had been.  And Rene and Thea and…

And poor Curtis had seen it enough that he had a Pavlovian response to it, hanging his head and shuffling his feet.  Felicity almost laughed, which would have been mean, so she was glad that she managed to restrain herself.  Though, she totally blamed Rick and his goddamn giggle juice for the fact that it was so hard to resist the urge.

Oliver stuck his finger out at Curtis and the poor man actually winced.  “No more sharp, pointy things for you until you’ve had proper lessons.  _Very_ basic lessons.  Lots of them.”

Oooo, Felicity knew what that meant.  She looked to Digg, who met her eyes, clearly thinking the same thing.  “Water slapping,” they said together.  That would be so much fun.

“What was that now?” Curtis gapped.

 “Aw, Hoss, look what you did?” Rene jumped right back into the fray, because he was, apparently, a _loud_ drunk, who didn’t know when to let things lie (and, maybe, liked being the center of attention).  “You went and got Dad involved.”

“Pretty sure it was your _yelling_ that got Oliver involved,” Dinah drawled, talking a sip of her beer.   

Rene, predictably, ignored Dinah’s very excellent point.  Probably _because_ of how completely excellent it was.  “Don’t you want a baby brother, Curtis?  ‘Cause I’m pretty sure whatever was going on over there was going to get blondie pregnant.”

Felicity’s eyes went wide and she choked on her drink, but that was drowned out by the synchronized head smacks by Digg and Dinah to the back of Rene’s head. 

So…the others noticed the eye sex, then.  _That_ was embarrassing.

Downing the rest of her drink, Felicity prayed for _some_ sort of control over her facial expressions (which wasn’t damn likely given how little control she had when she was sober) and watched Oliver’s reaction over the rim of her glass.

“Watch it _,”_ Oliver growled, turning a scary finger, all pointy and jabby, on Rene.

But if Felicity had been afraid that being called out on their flirtation would make Oliver keep his distance…well, she needn’t have.

Immediately, Oliver was back at Felicity’s side, putting a protective hand on the small of her back, leaning in and whispering, “You okay?  I can punch him.  Not a problem.”

It was stupidly chivalrous and completely barbaric and Felicity really didn’t need to be protected from René’s inappropriate mouth, but…it made her laugh. 

She was giddy.  It made her giddy. 

Though, Oliver was _so_ not drunk enough to punch Rene for something this dumb.  Now a head-lock… _that_ would be sexy. 

Felicity smiled up at Oliver and Oliver smiled back and…had she been upset about something?  She really couldn’t recall. 

“Oh, come _on_!” Rene snorted.  “He’s five seconds away from: ‘Give us the room.’” 

And, while Felicity now remembered why she was supposed to be annoyed-slash-embarrassed, she had to say, Rene did a rather impressive Oliver!Voice.

“You know what, Rene?” Digg jumped in, his voice raised and… _ooo_ Rene was in trouble now.  “If you really want someone to challenge you, I think you should play Oliver.”  He gestured to the dart board with a jerk of his chin.

Felicity’s eyes lit up.  She wasn’t _really_ upset by Rene’s teasing since…a) kinda too tipsy to care, b) too _happy_ to care, c) this was pretty par for the course with Team Arrow, and (most importantly) _d_ ) Oliver was being too adorable and attentive for her to mind _anything_.

_But_ …that didn’t mean Felicity wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy seeing Oliver kick Rene’s ass at darts. 

Unfortunately, Rene wasn’t buying in.  “Ha!  As if _that_ would be fair!”

Well, at least, Rene wasn’t stupid enough (or wasted enough) to think he could beat the Green Arrow at a game of darts.  But it would be so fun to see him lose…Felicity meant try.  It would be fun to see him _try_ to beat Oliver at darts.  And _then_ lose.

Everyone turned to Oliver, but it seemed to take him a minute to realize that they were waiting for his response. 

“What?  He’s right,” Oliver looked like he didn’t understand why this was even a discussion.  He glanced down at Felicity (who he was still _right_ next to) as if looking for clarification and she shrugged.  Only explanation she had was it would be fun to show the newbies what OTA could do.   “I could beat him blindfolded,” Oliver argued and she didn’t doubt that for a second. 

“Now, _that_ I’d like to see,” Curtis said with a gesture of his beer.

“It _would_ be entertaining,” Dinah agreed, echoing Felicity’s thoughts.  Though, probably, (hopefully) without the same ulterior motive of being turned on watching by Oliver win at… _anything_.

Rene let out a grunting sigh and threw his arms up in the air.  “Fine.  I’ll go up against a blind-folded Oliver.”

“Whoa!” Oliver put up his hands, looking as if he had no clue how things had escalated so fast.  It just made Felicity grin.  “No way I’m letting any of you blindfold me.”

But Felicity’s favorite part was the way he took a subtle step _closer_ to her.  As if Oliver was expecting her to protect him from the drunken whims of the team.

“Except Blondie, you mean,” Rene smirked.

Or, maybe, the step wasn’t so subtle.

But, now, Oliver was getting irritated.  “ _Hey_ —”

“Uh oh, Dad’s got that loo- _ok_ ,” Rene sang.  It was almost like he wanted to get trounced.

“Down Dawg,” Curtis threw out, but it sounded ridiculous coming from him.  Maybe a drunk Team Arrow wasn’t the best idea.

Nah.  What was she thinking?  It was awesome.

Thankfully, Dinah stepped up before the boys could dig themselves in deeper (or start an old-fashioned bar brawl).  “How about we play doubles.  Me and Rene against Oliver and Felicity?”

Dinah must really want to see Oliver shoot blind…whoa…wait…did she say ‘Felicity’?

“ _Me_?” Felicity almost started choking again.  No one in their right mind let _her_ touch sharp pointy projectiles.   _Sober_.  “I’m probably worse than Curtis.”

“Hey…I mean, thanks?” Curtis tilted his head, undoubtedly trying to piece apart compliment from insult.  He shouldn’t try so hard, any compliment in there wasn’t worth finding.

“That’s why it’s fair.” Dinah shrugged.  _She_ didn’t seem very drunk.  Not that Felicity knew what a drunk Dinah looked like.  Could be that it looked like this.  Stoic and calm, but subtly egging on an epically disastrous dart contest.

Felicity’s already considerable respect for her ebbed up another notch.

“And we’ll make sure no one’s standing in the back half of the room,” Digg added, his grin wide as he peered over at Felicity.  If he thought she didn’t catch the subtle insult, he was wrong.

“Fine,” Rene grunted, as if _he_ were the one that had to agree to this nonsense.  He always seemed to forget how _not_ in charge he was.  “But _he_ still wears a blindfold.”  Rene’s jerked a thumb at Oliver.

Oliver’s answer was simple.

“No.”

“I can put my hand over your eyes,” Felicity offered, though she had no idea why.  She had no desire to humiliate herself playing darts. 

Oliver’s eyes visibly softened as he turned his gaze to Felicity and he smiled that tiny little smile that reached his eyes and…ohhhh, _that’s_ why.

Yup, they were playin’ darts.  Time to do this thing.

But Rene shook his head, because he just _had_ to be difficult.    “No way.  Blondie will let him peek.  Digg or Curtis can do it.” Did he want to play or did he want to get punched?  It really wasn’t clear.

But before Felicity could object to the implication that she was a cheater (though, now that she thought about it, she would _totally_ cheat to kick Rene’s ass), a look of abject horror crossed Oliver’s face and he burst out with, “No one is putting their hands on me except Felicity.”

It was kinda awesome and even though she was definitely blushing, Felicity had to bite her lip from grinning out loud. 

Wait…grinning out loud?  Did that make sense?

Poor Oliver…he realized almost immediately what he’d said and he closed his eyes, his face twisting up in a grimace.

Finally, Curtis and Rene seemed to agree on _something,_ because their laughter was uproarious.  Dinah and Digg were grinning ear to ear and with the laughter and the happiness and…much as Felicity tried to hold it in, a giggle popped out.

Oh well.  Patting Oliver on the shoulder, Felicity tried to console him with, “Now you know how I feel.”  She had humiliated herself enough times with accidental innuendos to not feel _too_ bad for him.

“You know what they say about old married couples?” Digg smirked.

Even Oliver turned red at that one, narrowing his eyes at John and sending him the evil-eye.

It made Felicity want to run her fingers through the short hair on the back of his neck and pepper Oliver’s adorable face with kisses.  Was that an odd reaction?  She thought, maybe, it was.

Instead of petting him, however, Felicity managed a more moderate (and appropriate, she supposed) response and reached out to squeeze Oliver’s hand.  Then, turning on Rene, she did her tipsy best to take control of this dog and pony show. “You heard him.  You and Dinah against me and Oliver.  I’ll put my hands over his eyes.  Take it or leave it.”  Then she added, just because, “Unless you’re scared, _Dawg_.”

‘Dawg’ sounded just ridiculous coming from her lips, but (in Felicity’s humble opinion) she owned it.  Digg let out a bark of a laugh and Curtis leaned over to give Felicity a fist bump, so...yeah, one point for Overwatch.

_And_ it shut Rene up.  He just gave her a disgruntled glare, but then he rolled his eyes and spit out, “Whatever.  I go first.”

Oliver threw Felicity a smile, before following Rene to gather the darts, barking, “Hey, we get the green ones.  That’s non-negotiable.”

Felicity smothered another laugh and went to take another sip of her drink, only to realize that it was now empty.  Well, _that_ sucked.  She placed the glass on the closest table and tried to figure out what the best way was to get a subtle message to Rick without Oliver noticing. 

When Felicity looked up, Dinah was approaching her with a smile on her face.  She was the only person Felicity knew that could simultaneously manage sly and friendly in one expression.  Maybe, she could be recruited to work around Oliver’s alcohol ban?  No _way_ Rick would say no to Dinah.  Who could?

But as soon as Dinah was near enough, she threw Felicity for a loop by leaning in and whispering, “So, when am I going to get the _real_ story behind you and Oliver?  Somehow, I don’t trust Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dwag’s version of events.”

And, _miraculously_ , Felicity responded with a genuine laugh.  It wasn’t even hysterical.  Or awkward, even.  At least, she didn’t think it was.

Two weeks ago, the same question would have given Felicity a horrible queasy feeling and she would have made the fastest excuse she could come up with (which, let’s face it, would have been pretty lame) and bolted.  Like her _ass_ was on fire.

But, now, Felicity just gave Dinah a happy little (tipsy) smile.  “Tweedle- _dwag_ …great nickname B.T.W, I’m hoping that one sticks…wasn’t even around when Oliver and I were together…” Wow, was that the first time since the breakup that she actually referred to their romantic history outright?  “I can’t even imagine what his version sounds like.” 

It was, also, kind of amazing that it didn’t bother Felicity at all (anymore) that the team had clearly been discussing her and Oliver’s relationship status behind their backs.  Not that in front of their backs would be any better.  Probably worse, actually.

Dinah shrugged.  “Goes something like this: Used to be engaged.  Oliver fucked up.  Now everyone suffers as we wait for him to get his head out of his ass and fix it.”

Wow.  Felicity couldn’t help but laugh.  _Again_.  She was shocked at how much she really didn’t hate Rene’s version.  “What does Curtis say?”  She couldn’t imagine that one was as…short and sweet.

The question earned her eye-roll.  Felicity expected nothing less.

“I made the mistake of asking once,” Dinah told her, shaking her head.  “I got a very confusing narrative that sounded a lot like a tele-novella.  Star-crossed lovers, secret children, _pining_.  Curtis seems to think you both enjoy being miserable.”

Felicity liked that version less.  Curtis was way too into the modern soap opera.  She pressed her lips together and frowned.  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think I prefer Rene’s version.”

Dinah grinned, her eyes lighting up.  “Curtis is also of the opinion that you overreacted to the whole situation, but…” She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “I think Curtis might have a _tiny_ crush on our fearless leader.”

Smothering a giggle, Felicity’s eyes automatically found Curtis.  It was no secret that her friend found her ex physically attractive, but…as luck would have it, Curtis’ eyes were currently glued, appreciatively, to Oliver’s back-side. 

Not that Felicity could blame him. “It is one fine ass.”

Chuckling, Dinah nodded.  “As an objective observer, I’d have to agree.  In a completely aesthetic sense, of course.”

Felicity’s eyes flew back to Dinah’s.  _Oops_.  “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” 

Dinah’s laugh was louder this time.  “Is this something that happens when you’re drunk?”

“Tipsy,” Felicity corrected, scrunching up her nose.  She was having a hard time keeping her eyes from Oliver’s ass now that it had been pointed out.  Those pants were showing it off nicely.  “And not _just_ when I’m drinking. Unfortunately.”

That made Felicity realize that with everything going on this winter, she hadn’t taken the time to really get to know the only other woman on the team.  Because _everybody_ knew that Felicity occasionally spoke her thoughts out loud without meaning to.

Looking back at Dinah, Felicity impulsively blurted, “We should plan a girls’ day…night…pedicure-followed-by-drinks thing.”  She tried not to wince at how awkward _that_ sounded.  “I’ll tell you the whole story.  If you’d like.” Felicity didn’t overly love sharing, but, really, wouldn’t she rather Dinah hear the truth from _her_ , than get a warped version from the boys (or the tabloids).

Thankfully, Dinah didn’t look at her like she was crazy or weird.  Or too awkward to want to spend one on one time with.  She just smiled.  “Deal.”

Yay.  Felicity made a friend.  A girl one, no less.  One that actually lived in Starling and didn’t disappear all the time for work or journeys of self-exploration. 

“Hey, ladies!  When you’re done gossiping, we have a game going on here.” 

Why did they put up Rene?  Felicity had a done a terrible job vetting this team.  Also, the boys were _much_ bigger gossips than the girls.  So, really, he should keep his stone throwing to himself.

Dinah leaned close and muttered, “He is _such_ an asshole.”

Because Dinah was cool.  And Rene was not.

Felicity nodded her agreement, but then Oliver distracted her.  Completely.  Simply by turning to her, holding out his hand, and murmuring a soft, “Your turn.”

And Felicity took it like the love-sick puppy she was, sliding her fingers across Oliver’s palm and trying to ignore the way Curtis turned to Rene and declared, “See, _that’s_ how you treat a lady.”

They all needed to go home so Felicity and Oliver could enjoy all the shivery touches without the peanut gallery.

Luckily, Oliver must have decided not to let them bother him.  He pulled Felicity over to the dart board and, placing a dart in her hand, he took her by the shoulders and adjusted her position.  Then, leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “Try not to kill anyone.”

It was a clear dig and she _should_ have been insulted.   Felicity tried _really_ hard to be annoyed, but instead she…giggled. 

Maybe, she _was_ drunk. 

Rene gave a frustrated grunt.  “Come _on_ now.  There are no points for flirting.”

“Try not to kill anyone _except_ Rene,” Oliver corrected, louder this time, before stepping back and leaving her with an even worse case of the giggles.  _That_ was actually funny.

Then Felicity realized she was supposed to throw the damn dart.  Frak.  She was _so_ not good at this sort of thing. 

Ah, the hell with it.  It wasn’t like Felicity cared whether her friends thought she was good at darts or not.  She had enough things that she was good at that her self-esteem would surely survive.

Felicity threw the damn dart.

It landed about an inch above the score board.  In the pillar. 

So, at least, Felicity had done better than Curtis.

Rene, of course, snickered (maybe, Felicity _should_ aim the next one at him), but Curtis came over to give her another fist bump, singing, “Yay!  Go nerds!”

Felicity rolled her eyes.  Curtis could be so lame.  But she returned the fist-bump anyway.  He might be a lame nerd, but he was _her_ lame nerd.  Solidarity and all that.

“I thought this was all angles and physics,” Dinah mused out, eyeing the dart with a critical tilt to her head.  “Aren’t you engineering types supposed to be good at this?”

As if.  Felicity wished.  “First of all, my Masters are in Cyber Security and IT, not Engineering and—”

“Second, you’re thinking of pool,” Curtis, the _actual_ engineer jumped in, defensive.  Then he turned to Felicity.  “We should have played pool.”

“Rick doesn’t have a pool table,” Felicity pointed out.  It was either that or admit she wasn’t any better at pool.  Just because she could calculate the angles, didn’t mean she could shoot worth a damn.  It still required coordination.

“Maybe, we need to buy him one,” Oliver murmured and…um…she hadn’t realized that he had gotten so close again.  The man might move like a cat (or rather a panther), but he had gotten _awfully_ close without her realizing.  She really should have noticed. 

His words puffed against her ear, making Felicity shiver.  Oliver handed her another dart, which…what was the point anyway? Just give her zero points and move on. 

But, this time, Oliver didn’t step away to let her shoot.  If Oliver thought hovering was going to improve Felicity’s concentration he was soooo off.  Especially, when he put one hand on her waist and the other on her throwing hand…

_Ohhhhhh_ …Oliver was going to _teach_ her to throw.

Okay, _this_ Felicity could get behind.  The heat of Oliver’s big body against her back and all the subtle little touches…ummmm.  She was starting to see the advantages of that pool table.  If the lessons were like _this_ …add the leaning over…

Yes, please.

“Ready?” Oliver asked.  He was just so _warm_.

“Mmhmm,” Felicity hummed, leaning back into him and struggling to keep her eyes open.  She really couldn’t care less about the damn game.  She just let Oliver guide her hand and…

Oliver whispered in her ear, “One…two…three… _throw_!”

Felicity let go and…

Bullseye!

For real?  Did that just happen?

“Oh my _God_.  Eee!” Felicity clapped and, maybe, sort of, hopped up and down on her toes.  Just a little.  Hey, she was _drunk_.  These things happened.  And, also, that was the most successful she had ever been, at anything _remotely_ athletic.  Ever. 

Felicity spun around and… _wow_ , Oliver was…in her personal bubble.  Yup, he was.  What would he do if she just…kind of…leaned up and _kissed_ him?  In celebration, of course. Maybe, as a thank you?

Oliver was smiling down at her with those too blue eyes and that kiss was looking better and better and this was, really, an excellent excuse and…  

“No _way_!” Rene called out.  “No way!  _Not_ fair.  That wasn’t Felicity throwing!  That was Oliver using her hand as a…bow or something.”

Rene _sucked_.  Really, really _epically_ sucked. Felicity was _so_ firing him.  No more Team Arrow for Rene.

Oliver gave him a glare that would have shriveled a lesser man, but whether it was the alcohol making him brave or sheer stupidity, Rene didn’t even flinch.  It was almost impressive.

He was still fired.

“Fine,” Oliver finally barked. 

Uh oh.  Now what? 

Oliver took Felicity’s hips and pushed her into the position he wanted her in and…okay, now _this_ was not fair.  He _knew_ how much being manhandled turned her on.  Was he doing it on purpose?  Because she just might melt from the sheer hotness of it.

Wrapping himself around her, Oliver got her hand in position.  Seriously, Felicity was really starting to see the advantage of this game.  They hadn’t had this much physical contact (without either of them almost dying) in a year.  Oh…well...except that one time in the bunker. 

“Keep your hand right there,” Oliver whispered, sending tremors up Felicity’s spine.

Mmm… _that one time in the bunker_ …

But then, Oliver pulled his hands away and stepped back and…it was _cold_!  Goddamn it!  Where was he going?  This was all Rene’s fault.  Felicity was valiantly trying to restrain herself from sending him a furious glare (or an angry dart.  Too bad she’d probably miss), when Oliver commanded, “Shoot!”

Felicity obeyed…without a second thought.  She just let the damn thing fly and…oh dear _God_ , it actually hit the target!  Ha!  Take that Rene, formerly known at Wild Dawg!

It wasn’t a bullseye, but _damn_ close!

Felicity squealed, clapping again.  “I did it!”

Oliver grinned so wide his dimples showed.  “You did.”

“Fine,” Rene grunted, sounding like he wanted to argue, but…actually, Felicity wasn’t sure why he didn’t.  He usually didn’t have that much restraint.  “Dinah, you’re up.”

They all stepped back so Dinah could take Felicity’s spot.  Felicity had every intention of nonchalantly stepping into Oliver’s space, but Curtis slipped over and pulled her aside. 

He really was the worst wing man.

Completely oblivious, Curtis cupped Felicity’s elbow and whispered in her ear (funny, no shivers with him), “You think Oliver would give me those kinds of lessons?”

Jealous?  Felicity managed to keep that comment inside, though, instead going with a cheeky, “I _dare you_ to ask him.”  Because wouldn’t _that_ be fun?

Both of them looked over at Oliver, who was standing, arms crossed, legs wide.  His standard ‘relaxed’ pose.  He wasn’t very good at relaxing.  Well…outside of bed.  Give Felicity a couple hours and she could relax him _real_ good.

Okay, recalibrating.  Thoughts going a little too far over to the dirty side. 

Felicity looked over Oliver (which probably wasn’t going to help with the recalibrating).  His face was facing Dinah, but he was actually staring at Felicity out of the corner of his eye.  In a way that made her heart speed up and her mouth water.  If she had her guess _his_ thoughts were rolling in a mud bath about now.

“Yeah…” Curtis shook his head.  “I don’t think I want to get in _that_ guy’s way tonight.” He turned to Felicity and put a hand on her shoulder.  “Good luck.  I expect the lowdown tomorrow.”  Did Curtos have any idea how ridiculous he looked when he wagged his eyebrows like that?  “Lookie here, you’re up, human blindfold.”  He gave her a rather dopey and annoying wink (which was even worse than his eyebrow wag) and ended with a, “Knock ‘em dead,” which didn’t even make sense.

Felicity really hoped Curtis was drunk, because otherwise this was just embarrassing. 

Dinah had finished shooting and done decent.  Better than decent, actually.  Better than _Rene_.  Too bad she was on the other team.  Still, Felicity felt like she should be rooting for her out of female solidarity or something.  Go Girl Power!  #Feminism.  Or something like that.

Then Felicity looked over at Oliver with all his bulgy muscles and his puppy-dog eyes and his secret insecurities…

“I think that Oliver should, at least, have a chance to show us what he can do _without_ handicaps.  A baseline of sorts,” Felicity said as innocently as she could manage.

‘Cause, Girl Power was great and all, but in the end, she was always gonna be Team Oliver.  And, at the moment, it seemed really important that everyone here know _exactly_ what he was capable of.   

Oliver was already in position, twirling the three green darts casually in his hand and even that was impressive.  He looked over his shoulder at her and… _wow_ , that look…it was a wonder that Felicity wasn’t a puddle in middle of the floor. She was certainly damp in all her unmentionable places.   She bit her lip, just to make sure she didn’t announce that fact to the world. 

The darts flew in quick succession, before anyone else had a chance to offer an opinion about this ‘baseline’ Felicity was proposing.  And Oliver’s gaze never left hers.

“Woooo!” Curtis called and, yeah, maybe he did have a _tiny_ crush.  Who could blame him, though?

Felicity tore her gaze from Oliver’s to see the three darts sharing a spot dead center and, _dammit_ , if she wasn’t turned on even more.

“That did not count!” Rene quickly insisted.  “We agreed to the blindfold…girl.  Blindfold girl. That does _not_ count!”

Oliver threw his protégé a smug (and horrifically sexy) look as he strode…no _sauntered_ , over and pulled out the darts.  How was _everyone_ not turned on by… _that_? 

Then Oliver turned to her with a single eyebrow raised. “Felicity?”

Okay, human blindfold time.  It was both exciting and…kind of nerve-wrecking. 

Oliver was, of course, very much taller than her, even in her four-inch heels, so, _of course,_ Felicity _had_ to lean against him as she reached up to cover his eyes.  

Did she say nerve-wrecking?   She meant _self-control_ wrecking.  Because Felicity had to bite her lip to keep a dopey grin off her face as her breasts pressed again his biceps.  She was minutes away from throwing herself at him.

And it wasn’t even sexual (well, not _all_ sexual).  Felicity had such an urge to lean her forehead against Oliver’s shoulder, something she had done a million times before.  Something from another life.  God, she missed it.

“Oh...no no no no no…this is _not_ going to fly!”

What?  Goddamn Rene!  “Didn’t I fire him?” Felicity grumbled.

“Not yet,” Oliver muttered back and his voice was even less pleased than hers.

“I totally did.  It might have been in my head, but I did.  Rene should leave.  He’s not on the team anymore.”  Though, maybe, a dart in his backside…?

Rene shot Felicity an unamused look as he pulled a chair up behind Oliver.  “Since when do you have the power to fire me?”

“Since always,” Oliver and Digg responded together and Felicity gave Rene a smug look.

Ha!  Take _that_!

“Fine,” Rene rolled his eyes.  “I’m fired, but we’re still finishing the game.”  He extended his hand to Felicity like the gentleman he was _not_.  “Up, blondie.”

“She’s not a _dog_ ,” Oliver hissed, before Felicity even had a chance to defend herself.  And, wow, at this rate Rene really _was_ gonna get fired.  From his day job as well.

“Sorry, _Dad_ ,” Rene drawled, turning to bow to Felicity.  “Miss Felicity, would you, _please_ , do me the honor of helping you step upon this chair?”

Ummm.  Alright, that was kind of adorable.  Felicity even laughed.  She couldn’t help it.  She also gave in and took Rene’s hand, climbing onto the chair behind Oliver.  “Fine, but you’re on probation,” she muttered as she did.

Rene placed an exaggerated hand on his chest as he took a step back.  “Thank you, M’lady.”

Felicity totally forgave him.  On the way, Oliver was eyeing her heals from the her perch on the stairs (and maybe her legs) alone.

“Are you okay up there?”  Oliver sounded concerned, but seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes on her face.

Felicity grinned.  “I’ll just lean on you if I get wobbly.” Because her self-control was no better up here.  It could be worse.  Could she blame it on the air being thinner?

Her answer seemed to satisfy Oliver.  A lot, actually.  Felicity was pretty sure she saw a flash of pride and, maybe, even possessiveness, before he turned back to face the dart board.

“Both hands over his eyes, blon…sorry, Miss Felicity, M’lady, please.”

Felicity rolled her eyes.  Okay, it was becoming less cute each time Rene said it, but since she had no problem with his instruction, she let it go, placing both hands over Oliver’s eyes and leaning into him a bit.  For stability.

Rene actually came over and adjusted Felicity hands, to make sure no peeking could happen. It was probably a good thing that Oliver couldn’t see him doing it.

As _if_ Oliver needed her to cheat.  Though…just to make sure, as soon as Rene was out of their bubble, Felicity leaned forward and whispered in Oliver’s ear, “You want me to let you peek?”

“Nope,” Oliver whispered back and, luckily, he didn’t sound insulted.  He sounded far too confident to be insulted.

“You may shoot,” Rene told them oh-so-magnanimously and Felicity could feel the flutter of Oliver’s eyelashes under her hands as he rolled his eyes. 

Then, before anyone could say ’boo’, Oliver let the darts fly.  One.  Two.  Three.

All dead center.

“Whoohoo!”

Digg whistled and the clapping was rather loud for the small group that was gathered.  Felicity laughed in triumph.  As if _she_ had thrown the shots.  Her hands fell to Oliver’s shoulders and squeezed.  Team Oliver _always_ wins. 

Well, unless it’s against Team Felicity. 

But _together_ …unstoppable.  Take that Tweedle-dwag!

And as if that wasn’t enough, Oliver looked back over his shoulder and gave Felicity that panty-dropping wink that she hadn’t seen in _so_ long.  It was a _damn_ good thing Felicity was holding onto him, because her knees gave out. 

“No way!” Rene grunted.  “How the fuck…?”

The only response Oliver seemed to think necessary was a shrug.

Scowling, Rene stalked over to his coat and pulled out a beanie.  Then, wordlessly, he handed the hat to Oliver.  Really?  He’d been working with Oliver for almost a year and he didn’t believe he could make that shot without cheating?  Maybe Rene wasn’t smart enough for Team Arrow.

Eyebrows up, Oliver asked, “Are you implying the I… _we_ were cheating?”

Rene was smart enough not to admit to it out loud.  But he still held the hat out.  Really, he should have quit while he was ahead.  And, by ahead, Felicity meant before he induced Oliver to violence.  Did Rene know about Roy and Barry and the arrows…?

“You are walking a fine line, my friend,” Digg chuckled as he shook his head, nursing his beer. 

Felicity would bet good money that _John_ was thinking about Roy and Barry and the arrows.  She’d also bet that he’d find Oliver putting a dart in Rene rather entertaining.

But Rene was braver than he was smart and Oliver didn’t seem the least bit insulted (which was good, because Felicity was having too good a time to have it ruined with a trip to the emergency room).

Oliver just shrugged good-naturedly, taking the hat.  He really did love shooting things that weren’t trying to kill him.  Felicity just hoped he was having as much fun as she was. 

“This better be clean, Ramirez.”   Oliver pulled the hat on and down over his eyes.

And Felicity…she found herself feeling rather out of place, standing on top of that chair, drunk as frak, in four inch heels.  “Uh…am I still the human blindfold or can I get down now?”

“You’re still the human blindfold,” Rene insisted.  Maybe he was just more _stubborn_ than he was smart.  But she had no desire to give up her job just yet so… 

“Oky-doky.”  Felicity knew none of this was going to make a difference in Oliver’s shooting ability, but touching was fun.

It didn’t affect Oliver in the slightest.

One. Two. Three.

Dead center.

“ _Dude_ ,” Rene breathed and this time it was with reluctant admiration.  The others whistled and clapped.

Oliver pulled off the hat and tossed it to Rene.  Placing his hands-on Felicity’s waist, Oliver lifted her off the chair.  It was wonderfully familiar.  

“We done yet?” Oliver asked.

Felicity was done.  So done.  With the game.  With the bar.  Not with Oliver.  Not by a long shot.  She smiled up at him, hoping he was planning to walk her home and…

But _Rene_ …God _damn_ Rene…he answered, “Not quite.”

So, _apparently,_ the team wasn’t as done as Felicity was.

What followed was an hour and a half of the team trying to find the craziest scenarios they could dream up, just to see if they could make Oliver miss the target.

He hit the bullseye every time. 

Every _fraking_ time.

From across the room.

Backwards.

Left handed.

On one leg.

Upside down…yes, draped over a chair, _upside down_.  (It was fricken adorable.  Not to mention hot.)

The only time Oliver’s dart was even _slightly_ off center (still a bullseye, just not _dead-_ center) was when Rene spun him around like 30 times.  With the stupid beanie on.  After _four more_ shots of bourbon.

Felicity was more surprised that Oliver didn’t throw up, than that he made the shot.  She couldn’t even watch, it made her so queasy.

Then Rene took the board off the wall to create a moving target.  He was seriously hammered at this point, having gone shot for shot with Oliver and the bourbon.

Digg didn’t look too thrilled with that one.  He winced as Rene held the board in front of him.  “I don’t know, man.  If he misses the shot…”

“ _John_!” Oliver was clearly insulted that Digg would suggest such a thing.  Bourbon made him _extra_ cocky.

Oliver’s eyes were glassy and, while, his aim may still be on point, Felicity was pretty sure his reflexes were shy of their usual perfection.  She’d bet he was really feeling the bourbon at this point.  Which was saying something, because she rarely saw him _actually_ affected by alcohol beyond being a little relaxed.

John held his hands up in surrender.  “It’s not that I don’t have faith, Oliver—”

“It’s worth getting hit with a dart just to see him miss,” Rene cut in.  Because Rene was a moron.

And Oliver…he just grinned wider, lifting the dart.

But Rene stopped him with, “Don’t forget the hat.”

“ _No_!” 

Felicity knew she said it, but she wasn’t the only one.  Curtis, though, was suspiciously silent.  And she didn’t think it was out of faith in Oliver.

“Fine,” Rene conceded, sounding a lot like a petulant toddler.

None of it mattered.  Rene couldn’t move the target fast enough for Oliver to miss.

It wasn’t until later, when Felicity was sitting on the bar, Oliver behind it with Rick, munching on pretzels and making shot after shot (darts, not bourbon.  Thank goodness) over his shoulder that she asked in a whisper, “How _are_ you doing this?”

Oliver shrugged, leaning back on the bar.  Felicity couldn’t remember the last time he had looked so stress-free.  It was an _excellent_ look on him.  He was facing the row of liquor bottles, but his eyes were on hers as he let another dart fly over his head, the cheers that followed telling her he had made the shot yet again. 

“I remember where the target is.”  Oliver said it is if it were simple.  As if being able to keep in his brain the precise location of a tiny circle and make all the fine motor adjustments it took to make the shot every _single_ time wasn’t extraordinary.  

Shaking her head, Felicity sipped her drink (one that most _definitely_ had alcohol in it, thank you very much, Rick).  “How _did_ you manage to fail out of four colleges?”  It was something she often asked herself.  Oliver really was smart enough to bumble through with at _least_ ‘C’ without even trying.

Another shrug.  “It’s not hard if you never go to class.  Or write papers. Or do any reading what-so-ever.”

“That would explain it.”  As Felicity had expected, Oliver must have been actively working at _not_ passing.  She’d say it was a waste if she wasn’t so happy with the man he’d become.

Oliver leaned even further back to give her a smirk that really shouldn’t be as sexy as it was.  Felicity would bet money that there was a part of him that had been quite proud of how cleanly he had thwarted his parents’ plans for him.  He couldn’t get an MBA and become CEO if he failed out of college, could he?

“How about we turn off the lights?” Rene suggested.

Digg shook his head.  He was seated with his feet propped up on the chair next to him, looking rather relaxed himself.  “Too easy.”

“How about we let poor Rick, here,” Oliver clapped the old man on the shoulder, “close up and go home?  Some of us need to work in the morning.” He turned back to the owner as he made his way back around the bar, “Pull up the final tab, will you?”

Then, with a confidence born as much from bourbon and a night of wins as the history between them (more so, maybe), Oliver put his hands on Felicity’s waist to lift her off the bar.  Smiling, she placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to…take his liberties.  She had never had less of a desire to pop his bubble.

Oliver lifted Felicity down _far_ slower than necessary.  It was really too bad that the team was still here.

“Walk you home?” Oliver’s voice was warm and thick and it rolled over Felicity like honey, leaving fuzzy bubbly contentment in its wake. 

Felicity nodded happily.  “Mmmhmm.”

She almost didn’t catch Rick say, “It’s on me.  I hear the Green Arrow and his team brought in the Throwing Star Killer tonight.  I’m feeling generous.”

Felicity could tell Oliver was trying not to grin like a fool.  He failed.    He kept his eyes on hers and…all the subtle ways he puffed up at the praise warmed her heart.

“Looks like I was wrong about that Green Arrow guy,” Oliver quipped, his eyes crinkling at Felicity as if they were sharing a private joke.  Which they were, except that there was no one in the room that didn’t get it.

“Not me,” Rick announced, clapping Oliver on the back (Felicity wondered exactly when, or _if_ Oliver was going to let her go).  “Never lost faith.”

Digg threw an arm over Rick’s shoulder.  “Enough to keep the mayor’s scary precision at darts on the down low?”

“Hey, what happens at Rick’s stays at Rick’s.” The bartender looked almost insulted at the implication that it might not.  But, then, he turned and sent Felicity a wink. “Though, I might consider moving the dart board to the back wall.”

Laughing, Felicity gave up the warmth of Oliver’s hands (temporarily, if she had her way) to give Rick a peck on the cheek.  “You are _so_ getting a new pool table.”  And, hopefully, she’d be getting lessons in that as well.

Rick’s weathered face split into a grin.  “You have a fantastic rest of the night, Ms. Smoak.”

Digg laid a hand on Felicity’s back, his eyes warm and knowing.  Supportive. “I’ll get the rest of these monkeys home safe—”

“Excuse, me!”

“And Dinah,” Digg quickly corrected.

“Damn straight,” Dinah grunted, pulling on her leather coat and heading up the stairs to the street, leaving Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dawg to follow her.  

Curtis didn’t protest the insult, but he did whisper _way_ too loudly as he passed Felicity, “Have _fu-un_.”

“Enough,” John barked, bringing up the rear, but even he gave Felicity one last wink.

It was really hard to care.  At least, in any _negative_ way.

Oliver handed Felicity her purse, “Ready to go?”

Was she ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if at the end of this chapter you were (internally) screaming, “Nooooo, I want to see the walk home!” have no fear, that’s the next chapter.  Close to 10K words, all Oliver and Felicity.  It’s Oliver’s pov and will depict the rest of their night together.  It was supposed to all be one chapter but I hadn’t gotten a chance to write the team in a while, so I might have gone overboard with this one. 
> 
> Random thing, Felicity only giggling when drunk is my head cannon for her.  It’s present in all my fics (except Found, I think), regardless of the universe.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, to my fabulous betas **Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed, and Ireland1733**.  And my endless gratitude to all of you who take a minute (or more) to leave a kudo or comments.  It makes me so happy to spread the feels around.  
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/ or Twitter, also Emmilynestill.  I would love to chat!
> 
> Happy Reading,
> 
> Emmy


	3. Walk Me Home (and Stay Awhile)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: 
> 
> This chapter takes place toward the end of _Arrow 5x21: Honor Thy Father_ , when the team goes out drinking after capturing Chase, and directly follows Chapter 2, but from Oliver’s point of view. 

 

He’d drank too much.

Oliver was well aware of this fact.  Honestly, he wasn’t sure the last time he had had _this_ much to drink.  He suspected that it might have been before the island.

He hated being drunk.  Feeling impaired.  Having his reflexes dulled.  Though…they hadn’t been dulled enough to affect his aim.  But even that cocky attitude felt more like pre-island Ollie than himself.

Since Lian Yu, Oliver had been very careful to stop drinking as soon as he felt that first relaxing wave, those pre-intoxication effects, the easing of his muscles, the dulling of the constant worry.  But _before_ it affected his self-control in any way.

Well, it was affecting it now.  Which was _not_ okay and Oliver really didn’t know how he had let it happen.

But he was _certain_ that his self-control had left the building.  Because no matter how many times Oliver told himself to tone it down, to stop staring at her, to keep his _Goddamn_ hands to himself…his body wouldn’t listen.

Oh, Oliver wasn’t completely gone.  That was evident by the fact that he hadn’t dragged Felicity behind a building (or back to the Bunker.  It really wasn’t far) and ravished her against the wall.  And he also wasn’t so drunk that he wasn’t aware (very, very aware) of all the subtle (and not so subtle) ways Felicity was communicating that she would be _very_ open to just that.

The bourbon had quieted that voice in the back of Oliver’s head.  The one that told him that he wasn’t worthy.  The one that obsessed over the ‘what ifs’ and all the things that could go wrong.

Without that holding him back, Oliver was left with nothing but a simmering flame in his blood whose name was Felicity.  So, every time his eyes fell to her lips (and they went there far more than they should) all he could see was his crashing to hers.   

Oliver could actually _taste_ her tongue.  It was a phantom sensation in his mouth, like a missing limb, and he wanted to know…no, he _craved_ the knowledge of how Felicity’s unique taste would mix with Rick’s concoctions.

His fingers constantly itched with the need to find the edge of that red dress and…

Okay…refocusing. 

Yup, Oliver was careening into very dangerous territory.  He needed to readjust his trajectory before he went flying off a cliff and took Felicity with him.

Oliver really didn’t know why he’d drank this much.  He’d intended one celebratory drink of bourbon and then to nurse a single bottle of beer for the rest of the night.  No harm.  No foul.

But one glass of bourbon became two…because why not?   It was a celebration.  Team bonding and all that.  How much could it even affect him?  Oliver was a big guy with a fast metabolism.  With his natural tolerance, two shots were still barely anything.

Besides, he was in a room full of people he trusted.  _Truly_ trusted.  Even Rene, who was often a Grade A asshole, Oliver knew had his back.

It had been a long time since he had, actually, let himself relax and be _aware_ of this fact.  He’d had a team he trusted for years now. 

Intellectually, Oliver had known this.  But Felicity was right, as she usually was, Oliver hadn’t allowed himself to let down his guard and _feel_ that trust on a visceral level.  Because he hadn’t trusted _himself_ enough to let go and do so.

But tonight was different.  Oliver was riding high on getting Chase behind bars (or glass) and having the suit back on and Felicity…

_Felicity_ …

It felt like he had _his_ Felicity back for the first time since…well, it hadn’t felt this easy, this _free_ since before she was shot.  Maybe, since before Oliver had found out about William.

Though, maybe, it was just the alcohol making Oliver feel that way now.

No.  It was…it was the way Felicity was looking at him like he’d hung the moon.  Nothing in the world had ever made Oliver feel as good.  He had almost forgotten, or he’d tried not to think about it or…

Oliver knew he would never have found his way out of the darkness without her.  He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said that she was his light.  It had guided him back.  After Tommy.  After Slade.  After the League.

Then the light was gone and… _somehow_ , Oliver had managed to keep going.   Better than he ever thought he could, really.

He’d done… _okay_.  As mayor.  As leader of this team.  Eventually.  Chase had thrown him, but…Oliver had been able to find his way back.  Sure, he’d had help, but, still, he’d managed it without his… _light_.

But, now that they were on the other side ( _please_ , God, let _this_ be the other side), Oliver could actually consider that maybe he’d needed this.  To have the chance to prove, to himself more than anything, that he could make the right decisions without Felicity guiding him.  To know he could be a (mostly) good man (if not a happy one) without her.

Yet here...now, on the other side…Oliver could see that light again.  It was at the end of the tunnel and so close and so bright and, wow, it made… _everything_ so _clear_.

Oliver knew _exactly_ who he was and who he wanted to be.  All the pieces he had been struggling with…they just fell into place.

Even this stuff with Oliver’s dad.  A year ago…a _month_ ago, it would have really thrown him, but now it just gave him perspective.

This mission…this quest…it wasn’t about Robert Queen.  Not anymore.  Maybe, it hadn’t been in a long time.  It was about Oliver.  It was about every single person on his team.  It was about doing the right thing and helping this city.  Helping _his_ people.  Keeping them safe.

This was no longer Robert Queen’s Legacy.  It was _Oliver_ Queen’s Legacy.  Team Arrow’s legacy.  Oliver and Felicity’s legacy.  Together.  And he really hoped it wasn’t the bourbon making him feel so confident in that.

But Oliver was a hundred percent certain that from this day forward, what he wanted was to focus on _their_ legacy.  As a couple.  As a family. 

_But_ …it was important enough to take time and do it right.

At least, that was what Oliver told himself at ARGUS after his surgery.  And after he was discharged.   _And_ in the Bunker once they had taken down Chase.  It was all very rational.  Mature.  A well thought out plan of action.

Then there was that second glass of bourbon and, suddenly, his hand was lingering on Felicity’s hip, dangerously close to the edge of that red dress that had been fluttering around her thighs, temptingly, all day.  Why would she wear skirts that short if it wasn’t to tempt him?

Okay, Oliver knew it wasn’t all about him, that Felicity picked clothing that fit her quirky personality and made her feel good, but it really _felt_ like her skirts were getting shorter and shorter ever since he had left the ARGUS med bay and this sexy librarian thing…she _had_ to know what it was doing to him.  She was too brilliant not to.

And, Jesus _Christ_ , Oliver wanted to pull that string holding Felicity’s top together open with his _teeth_.

_So_ , Felicity was standing there…looking gorgeous and sexy and _happy_ , leaning toward him and clapping whenever Oliver made one of those ridiculously easy shots and…

Oliver was flying high on life.  He was having _fun_.  It took him awhile to realize it because it was such a foreign concept, but surrounded by his friends and teammates, Oliver was actually having _fun_.

Then Rene was lining up shots, even _more_ bourbon, and Oliver _should_ have ended it right there.  At that point, he wasn’t far gone.  He was still in control of himself (mostly).  He could (should) have taking the responsible road, been the ‘dad’, they accused him of being, and said ‘no.’

But, then, Felicity was next to him, her entire side pressed up against his as she leaned her elbow on the bar, her head on her hand, and smiled up at Oliver with those too red lips.

Lips Oliver wanted to devour until ever speck of lipstick was gone.

Felicity was having fun too.  That much was obvious.  More than she had had in a very long time.  She deserved it and if she wanted Oliver to take those shots then…

Digg hadn’t drunk much.  Let _him_ be the dad for the night.  He was better at it anyway.

So Oliver drank every shot they poured for him.  Enjoyed every squeal and giggle from those red, red lips.  It wasn’t like he was so drunk that he was going to stumble or slur.  There would be no urinating in inappropriate places and he was very certain he would remember all of this in the morning.  _But_ …

The hum of alcohol in his blood was strong and the look in Felicity’s eyes was making him… _reckless_.

There was no way his judgement wasn’t impaired.  Because when Oliver helped Felicity off the bar and murmured, “Walk you home?” it was in direct opposition to every ration plan he had for moving forward with this ( _please, God_ ) reconciliation.

But Felicity just smiled and nodded.  And…

Then it was too late to back out.  Maybe, Oliver should have let Digg take her home.  Being alone with Felicity in the Loft…hell, just walking her the five blocks _to_ the Loft was asking for trouble in his current state.

Oliver looked into her eyes and Felicity swayed toward him (Rick had definitely kept giving her alcohol, despite what Responsible!Oliver of earlier in the evening had said).  Her self-control didn’t seem to be any better than his.

He was in _so_ much trouble.

Yet, there didn’t seem to be any part of him left that was willing to respond to that (small) piece of his brain that was still rational, because Oliver just ignored the all the too knowing looks from his teammates as he grabbed Felicity’s purse. 

Not that Oliver cared what any of them thought.  All he cared about was the future.  And Felicity.  More specifically, that they have one.  Together.

In fact, Oliver didn’t even spare his team a glance as they left.  He trusted Digg to get them all home safe.  Oliver just put a hand on the small of Felicity’s back and ushered her out.  He followed her up the steps and out of the basement bar, his eyes glued to the hypnotizing sway of her skirt and those thighs and that ass…

Oliver bit back a groan.  God, Felicity had the _best_ ass.  And those heels made her legs look so _damn_ good.  He had to clench his hands into fists to keep from touching.

Because, a hand on her waist or guiding her arm to help her throw a dart was one thing, but no matter what, they were _not_ to the point where grabbing Felicity’s ass in a stairwell was a good idea. 

Nope.  No matter how _delicious_ it looked.  Or how much Felicity seemed to want…no.   _No_. Felicity did not want to be _groped_.  And, even if she did (which she didn’t), that was _not_ part of the plan.

Not that Oliver had much of a plan.  Get Felicity home safe.  Keep her smiling.  Enjoy every second they got to spend together.  That was really the sum total of his planning.  Oliver’s brain was a happy hum of not-plans, of no-strategy.  For once.

For once, Oliver was enjoying the moment.

But a cool breeze hit his face as soon as they emerged from the cellar, sobering Oliver up enough to allow caution in.  And, then, that voice in the back of his head started up.

Don’t mess this up, it said.

Take it slow.  Don’t push.

This was too important to fuck up.

Sometimes, the voice knew what he was talking about, so Oliver pushed his hands into his pockets (he didn’t have the self-control to guarantee they would stay respectful if they were left to their own devices) and sent Felicity an awkward smile. 

Oliver felt like an idiot.  God, what was it about Felicity that made him feel like a bashful adolescent.  He hadn’t been bashful when he _was_ an adolescent.  He _used_ to have social skills.  Now, he it felt like he had about a much charm as a baked potato.  When it actually mattered, anyway.

But Felicity smiled back (which was good), shyly crossing her arms over her chest, which was _not_ as good, because the last thing in the world Oliver wanted was for this to turn uncomfortable.  _That_ would be awful.  He needed to do something.  _Say_ something.  Fast.

Oliver cleared his throat.  Here went nothing.  “Did you have fun tonight?” 

God, that was lame.  How come Oliver could charm a city, but could barely speak to the one person who knew him best in this world?

“Yeah.  Yeah, I did.”  Felicity gave him one of her luminous smiles and Oliver was able to relax again.  Thank God.

“Me too.  We have quite the team.”  Because of her.  If it had been up to Oliver, they would still be struggling to do this all on their own.  Um…maybe, he should say that out loud.  Admitting Felicity had been right…wasn’t that good boyfriend…or _perspective_ boyfriend etiquette?  He cleared his throat again.  “You were right about that.  Needing a team.”

Felicity’s smile just got bigger and, yeah, that concession was _so_ worth it.  She moved closer and bumped her shoulder against his.  “Ooo, I do love it when you say that, Mr. Queen.”

And the tone of her voice…it sent all of Oliver’s blood straight to his dick and left him feeling light-headed.  It took him a second to catch up.  “‘You mean…’you were right’?”

“ _Mmmm_ …” Felicity moaned dramatically and laid her hand on her chest, saying huskily, “Say it again.”

She was so fucking adorable.  Laughing, Oliver leaned in and murmured into Felicity’s ear, trying to match her tone, “You were right.  You usually are.”

Felicity’s breath hitched.  “Oh my.  You _are_ trying to seduce me.”

Oliver froze.

Overload.

Crap.  Okay.  No.  No. No. 

This was _not_ a seduction.  Not at all.  Seductions were about sex and this was _not_ about sex.  Okay, not _just_ about sex.   Sex was just a _small_ piece of…. 

Oliver needed to backtrack.  He’d done something wrong.  Taken a wrong turn.  Implied something he hadn’t meant to imply.  Where had he fucked up this time?  How did he _fix_ it?

Then Oliver realized that Felicity was staring up at him, her eyes wide, her smile fading.

And that was _really_ bad.

Was she worried that Oliver didn’t _want_ to seduce her?  That would be… _insane_.  Because, of _course_ , he did.  He wanted Felicity like…twenty-four/seven.

Should Oliver say that?  Would that help? Would Felicity take it the right way?  What _was_ the right way?  It might just make it worse.  Then what?

Oliver gave Felicity what he hoped was a reassuring smile, because any words his stupid brain was coming up with were…just _bad_.  But walking in silence was getting more and more awkward by the second. 

Felicity’s lips trembled a little and it looked like she was trying to return his smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.  Oliver needed to _say_ something.  And he couldn’t think of a fucking thing that wouldn’t dig the hole deeper.  Felicity was the one with a way with words.  Shit, she wrote half his speeches.  Thea wrote the other half.  Oliver was more of a man of action.

Should he kiss her?  That was action.  _That_ Oliver was good at.  Would that fix it?  Or make it worse?

But the decision was taken from him as Felicity, still looking up at him and trying to walk in those devil heels, tripped and…thank _God_ Oliver’s reflexes hadn’t been _that_ affected by that bourbon, because he was able to catch her before she fell on her beautiful face.

Oliver’s heart did a double skip, which was absurd because he could usually handle himself, _and_ his team, falling from buildings and the worst-case scenario here was that Felicity skinned her knee.  

“Whoa!  You okay?” Oliver asked, because…yeah… _no_.  Felicity skinning her knee was a very upsetting prospect.  It wasn’t logical, but it was fact.  And she could have sprained her ankle.  _That_ would be worse and…

“I’m fine,” Felicity answered, somewhat breathlessly.  “I just got my heel stuck in the sidewalk.”

That was when Oliver realized she was clinging to him.  In fact, her entire body was pressed up against him and…he was holding her there and it felt…really, really good.  Which, of _course_ , it did, but…hey, it had been a while, so maybe he needed a moment to bask.

And…then, before Oliver knew it, he had already basked so long that it was passed the point where it was _necessary_ to hold her…for balancing purposes, anyway.

But, now, Oliver couldn’t let Felicity go _too_ quickly, because that might bring back the whole seducing/not seducing quick-sand thing.  Maybe, just…keep her where she was? His body was very happy with _that_ proposal and it wasn’t listening to anything his _rational_ brain was telling it, so…

“Um…” Oliver swallowed, deciding that, maybe, talking would help distract Felicity from…everything awkward.  “You know, you should keep tennis shoes or something in the Bunker for the walk home.”  (The Bunker was only a fifteen-minute walk from the Loft, one of the reasons they had chosen that spot for their base of operations in the first place).

“Digg or Curtis usually drive me home.”  Felicity sounded winded and she was making no effort to pull out of Oliver’s arms.  That was good, at least.  “Besides, I thought you liked my heels.”

“I _do_ ,” was Oliver’s automatic and honest response.  His brain-mouth filter was definitely not up to its usual standards.  “They make…” Oliver had to bite his lip to keep the next words from tumbling out.  Commenting on how sexy her shoes made her _ass_ look was just _not_ appropriate for this stage (the pre-first official date stage) of their relationship. 

Taking a breath, Oliver tried to start over, “You look gorgeous in them.”  Then he rushed to add, “But you look gorgeous in bare feet or chucks or panda flats…” Okay, now he was going too far.   _Again_.  “And you would look gorgeous in a Walking Boot if you broke your ankle, but I would prefer to avoid that.”

Annnnd…how many times had Oliver just said ‘gorgeous’ in the last minute and half?

Seriously?  _What_ was wrong with him?

But if the smile on Felicity’s face was any indication, she thought it was a pretty good answer.  Or, maybe, she just thought it was cute when he was awkward as fuck.  Either way, _maybe_ , Oliver should turn his brain off more often.  Things were going better than they had in months.

“Well...” Felicity leaned into him, her hands curled around Oliver’s biceps.  “I’m not usually this clutzy.  I’m used to walking in 4-inch heels now.  I work with too many tall people.”

Oliver couldn’t say he hadn’t noticed (and appreciated) the height difference.  “In fairness, you’ve had a little bit to drink.”

The words came out without thought, but it was Felicity’s quick response…

“I’ve had a _lot_ to drink.”

Recognition came hard and fast, hitting Oliver like a sledge hammer and…

_That_ was why Oliver couldn’t kiss her.  How could he have forgotten?  That was why pulling Felicity back to the Loft and throwing her down on the couch was…just not an option.

The reminder, in fact, was like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face and Oliver stepped back, out of Felicity’s arms.

Because they had done this before.  They had gotten drunk (well, Felicity had) and they had fallen into bed (or the work-out mat) and it really had _not_ gone the way Oliver had hoped it would. 

The summer had been going so well.  Before.  At least, Oliver thought it had.  Things between him and Felicity had been slowly going back to normal.  He’d thought…maybe…they could just _drift_ back together.

Oliver should have known how stupid that was.  Or lazy.  Nothing worthwhile was ever that easy.

But there had been wine and flirtation and Felicity had _seemed_ so happy.  For the first time in _months,_ she had seemed happy.

And _Oliver_ had been happy.  He’d had fun. 

Like tonight. 

And like tonight, Oliver had been so hopeful and in love and when Felicity kissed him, it felt like everything was right with the world again.  He’d had some wine, just enough to relax him, but not nearly as much to drink as he’d had tonight.  Maybe, it had still been too much.

Oliver had certainly underestimated how drunk _Felicity_ was.  And that was just one of several bad calls he’d made that night.  He had _assumed_ that Felicity wouldn’t have kissed him if she didn’t want to get back together.  He had certainly made an ass of himself with that one.

But, maybe, that was what Felicity had been talking about when she said Oliver put her on a pedestal, assuming that she would always make the right choice, that she would never give into a moment of weakness for a night of great sex.

Though, maybe, it had only been great for him.  Felicity had said it was ‘nice’.  Just ‘ _nice_.’  She’d never said _that_ before.  And Oliver hated that that bothered him, but it did.

He hated that he regretted a night that had been pretty incredible.  Until it ended.  Pretty damn abruptly.

But Oliver did.  Regret it.

A lot.

After that night, there was a cautious distance between him and Felicity that just grew and grew.  And, now, knowing that she must have started dating Malone not long after…Oliver wondered if, maybe, he’d pushed her right into his arms.

By allowing that night to happen the way it did, by being broody and distant after, by withdrawing to lick his wounds…their friendship, their working relationship, all of it had suffered.

Was he willing to risk it all again?

Oliver took a deep breath and looked into Felicity’s eyes, she was still looking up at him and smiling and…

_Yeah_.  He was willing to take the risk. 

But _not_ for some drunken hook-up.  Oliver wanted it all.  It was only worth it, if they could have _everything_.

And Oliver really thought that they _could_ have it all.  He could make Felicity happy, be the partner she deserved.  In every way.  He _knew_ he could do it.  He just needed to prove it, needed one more chance to show her he could be her everything.

Oliver pressed a kiss to Felicity’s forehead, because it was so much safer than the alternative.  He lingered far too long though, but her pleased hum only encouraged him.

It took all of Oliver’s willpower to pull even _partially_ away from her.  “Let’s get you home before you break something.”  He wrapped his arm (just one this time) around Felicity’s waist.  To help her walk, of course.  “Lean on me.”

He didn’t know what he was getting himself into when he asked for that.  Felicity’s arm curled around his hips and Oliver actually shivered it felt so good.  She even leaned her head against his shoulder as they started walking again. 

God, it would be _so easy_ to forget this whole horrible year happened.

Felicity let out a giggle and Oliver smiled as she slapped a hand over her mouth.  “Frak, I hate it when I do that?”

“What? Giggle?” Oliver asked, surprised.  He knew it embarrassed her, but ‘hate’ was a strong word. 

Felicity nodded.  “I sound like a ditzy blond.”

Oliver had to laugh, it was so absurd.  “You could never sound _ditzy_.”  But Felicity just answered in a disbelieving huff, so Oliver added softly, “I kind of love the giggle.”  He wondered if he could thank the bourbon for _that_ particular confession.

Felicity tilted her head to the side so she could look up into his face.  She eyed him suspiciously as they walked.  “Because I sound silly and empty headed?”

“ _No_.” Seriously?  Ironically, that was possibly the dumbest thing Felicity had ever said.  “Because you sound happy and carefree.”

Her confusion melted into a smile.  “Maybe, I need to get _you_ to giggle then.”  Felicity pinched Oliver’s side and it really shouldn’t have felt sexual, but it did.

Still, Oliver let out a burst of laughter, as much from the idea of him being reduced to giggles as from the incredible burst of happiness her words triggered.  “I don’t think that there is enough alcohol in the world for that.  This is as carefree and happy as I get.    Get used to it.”

Okay…

Oliver really had no idea where _that_ came from.  It had all kind of… _spilled_ from his mouth.  And that one, _definitely_ the bourbon talking.  Nick must carry some strong shit.

But Felicity…she looked…the phrase ‘shock and awe’ came to mind.  And the way she looked up at him, eyes shining, her pony-tail messy and off center…

“I could _definitely_ get used to it,” Felicity murmured and, _God_ , if it wasn’t sex personified.  And, maybe, something a whole lot better than sex.

Oliver felt it in his gut, a whole lot lower, and, maybe, even in his chest.  Somehow, he managed to smile back, before forcing himself to take a careful breath of the cool night air.  In through his nose, out through his mouth, trying to gain control of…something.  _Anything_.

Felicity hummed happily, blissfully unaware of the struggle he was going through, and leaned her head back against Oliver’s shoulder as they walked.  She started to babble on about some stupid thing Rene and Curtis had gotten into that night.

Half-listening, Oliver just enjoyed the rise and fall of Felicity’s voice.

He needed… _a plan_. 

This no plan thing wasn’t working.  It wasn’t going to end well.  If he let things go naturally, Oliver was almost certain that they would end up in bed together (he wasn’t being arrogant, just realistic) and the last thing he wanted was a repeat of last summer.  And, this time, he was _actually_ drunk.

Putting everything _else_ aside…the last thing Oliver needed was for reunion sex with the love of his life to be a drunken mess.

Look what happened last time.  Oliver had been so caught up that he hadn’t even realized Felicity wasn’t enjoying it as much as he was.  He hadn’t _thought_ he was intoxicated, but it had, apparently, been enough to affect his performance.

Oliver wasn’t one to be self-conscious or worried about his talent in the bedroom.  It was one of the only things he had always been good at.  From a young age.  Even as a selfish adolescent, he had loved women (or girls, then) and loved making them feel good.  It had led to a lot of trouble in his younger days, but…

Well, Felicity had never complained about their sex life.  In fact, Oliver would have said that their sex life had always been pretty damn spectacular.  Even when Felicity was paralyzed, Oliver had devoted himself to making sure that she got as much pleasure as she possibly could from their love making.  He knew it wasn’t the same, but with time and patience (and a lot of research) Oliver really _thought_ she was satisfied.  More than satisfied.

But then their first time together after so long and…it was _nice_.

Just _nice_.

Well, for Felicity. Oliver had thought that it was amazing, but…a part of him worried that the reason it was _just nice_ for her was that she wasn’t in love with him anymore.  That the sex that had been a revelation for him had been… _closure_ for her.

Just the thought made Oliver nauseated, an empty hole expanding in his chest.  Even with all the evidence that she still had feelings for him, even with Felicity tucked up against him and her arm around his waist, he…

“Oliver…hey, _Oliver_ …”

Blinking, he turned his eyes down and focused on Felicity’s beautifully curious smile.  “You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

Crap.  “I…that’s not true.” Oliver had been listening.  In the beginning.

“Really?” Felicity’s eyebrows flew up, her expression skeptical.  “So…what was I talking about?”

“Rene and Curtis?”  Oliver probably shouldn’t have made it a question.  It showed his hand, practically admitted that his mind had wandered, which was not what he wanted.  Prospective boyfriends needed to, at the very least, be attentive.

Felicity just shook her head, cutting through Oliver’s bullshit as cleanly as she usually did.  “You have worry face.  No worry face allowed.”

“I don’t,” Oliver protested automatically, without even thinking about whether it was true or not.

Felicity just sighed.  “Oliver, Chase is—”

“I wasn’t thinking about Chase.” And, at least, Oliver could say _that_ with absolute certainty, and when Felicity opened her mouth to argue, he added, “Cross my heart.”

Frowning, Felicity reached up and tapped Oliver’s forehead.  “So, what’s with the crinkles, then?”

“I...” 

How was Oliver supposed to answer that?  Did he confess that it was the idea that Felicity _might_ not still be in love with him?  Despite her saying ‘I love you’ _multiple_ times?   The possibility of him not being up to snuff in bed?  How pathetic was _that_? 

“I was thinking about the future,” Oliver finally settled on, then winced as Felicity’s face fell.

“What happened to making a _better_ future?”  Felicity asked gently, but Oliver felt like he was disappointing her again and he _hated_ that feeling.

He gave her a self-deprecating smile.  “That’s the plan.  I just…”  Oliver took a deep breath. “I worry about my ability to make that happen.”

“I don’t.”  And the look Felicity gave him was filled with so much confidence that it made Oliver dizzy.  “And it’s not all on you.  You have a team now.”

Smiling back, Oliver pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  “I know that,” he whispered, not telling her that the only team he cared about, at the moment, was the two of them.

They were almost back to the Loft and….

Right, Oliver needed a plan.  Because they were _not_ going to fall back into bed tonight.  But he, also, needed to make sure Felicity understood how _not_ rejected she was. 

Oliver needed to stay firmly _outside_ the door to the Loft.  He would get Felicity there safe and…he would ask her out to dinner….

Because _that_ had gone so well in the past.  Oliver hadn’t even been mayor then and they didn’t have a stupid twitter nickname that was catnip to the paparazzi and….no pressure there.

_Maybe_ …he could ask if he could come back tomorrow…?  Or this weekend…? And cook for her?  They could talk.  That would be nice and private and Oliver had missed cooking.  He could make some of Felicity’s favorites and limit the alcohol intake and, maybe…start over? 

That sounded like a pretty good plan.  Oliver just needed to…convince Felicity.

By the time they reached the door to the Loft, Oliver had rehearsed exactly what he was going to say in his head, at least a half-dozen times.  Felicity put her key in the lock and he held his breath, waiting for her to turn around so he could…

Felicity swung the door open, rather inelegantly, and stumbled…no _hopped_ (on one foot) into the room, not bothering to invite Oliver in.  Or even turn around and look at him.  She was too busy trying to pry off her shoe.

Which wasn’t working.

Grunting in frustration, Felicity whined, “ _Ol-i-ver_ , it’s the strappy ones.  I forgot.  Oh, _why_ did I put the strappy ones on today?  I don’t even think my fingers can work the damn buckles!”

So much for Oliver’s plan. 

Clearly, Felicity expected Oliver to follow and it wasn’t helping that she was acting so damn adorable and… _familiar_.  Acting…as if they were still together.  Fuck him.

As he stepped into the Loft, his brain flashed the word ‘Danger.’  But Oliver’s feet weren’t listening, they were already following Felicity to the couch.

Oliver wondered if Felicity would feel better about him not listening to her if she knew that he couldn’t even listen to _himself_!

But, at the moment, she was oblivious to all of it.  Felicity collapsed onto the sofa, muttering, “Goddamn it!  I bet they use straps just like this for torture or BDSM.  Did you know, it’s a scientific fact that the minute you step into your own home, high-heels become eight times more painful?”

Felicity didn’t even seem to pick up on the fact that she had just dropped a sex kink into casual conversation like it was nothing.  She kept talking and Oliver…he tried not to swallow his tongue.

Chuckling through his internal panic, Oliver sat across from her on the coffee table and gently took Felicity’s foot from her aggravated grasp.  Which he was pretty sure he had _not_ given his hands permission to do.

But now that he had that foot, surrounded as it was by beautiful, but ridiculous leather straps, there was nothing for Oliver to do but work the buckle free Felicity’s of the ‘torture’ bands (he was not thinking about the other description).

“You know, it’s very unfair that drunk you is so much more coordinated than _sober_ me,” Felicity pouted as Oliver slipped the shoe off and, God lord, the cuteness alone was going to break him.

It was on the tip of his tongue to deny being drunk, when he realized that that was neither true, nor helpful to his cause, so Oliver let a smile be his only answer.

Pulling the shoe free, Oliver frowned down at the crisscross marks left by the straps and ran his thumbs over them in an attempt to rub them away.  Torture bands indeed.  “Why do you wear these shoes again?”

Felicity giggled, which seemed an odd response, but when Oliver looked up at her questioningly, she only giggled more.  “Are you aware that you just growled, your _Green Arrow_ growl, mind you, at my _shoes_?  Pretty sure they don’t deserve an arrow through them.”

Oliver could only scowl at that.  He wasn’t so sure.  The red marks were _not_ going away.

For some reason that made Felicity laugh harder.  “Really, Oliver, it’s not so bad. They barely hurt now.  Just a tiny ache.”

Grunting, because he didn’t think Felicity would appreciate his opinion that her feet shouldn’t hurt at all, Oliver focused his attention on her foot, watching it flex and stretch and…a jolt of pure awe shot through him.  A year ago, she couldn’t make these simple movements.  Hell, a _week_ ago. 

Before Oliver realized what he was doing, he had pushed the pad of his thumb into her arch, running it along the tired tendons, and causing Felicity to let out a moan that went…well, straight to his cock. 

And _that_ should have told him it was time to stop.  But, of course, Oliver continued the massage, hypnotized by Felicity’s purple tipped toes.  Damn bourbon.

_God_ , Oliver could develop a foot fetish for her. He wanted to run his cheek along the arch.  Suck on each of her toes…

He put her foot down.

But before Oliver could stand up and get some distance between them, for his own fucking sanity…Felicity’s other foot, still clad in the dominatrix straps (if, dominatrix’ wore high fashion nude colored shoes), was presented to him. 

Oliver caught her foot instinctively and when he glanced at her, Felicity was slumped down on the couch, her eyes half-mast, smiling a lazy sort of smile.  “Next, _please_.”

Well, shit.

Oliver was in so _much_ fucking trouble.

But it wasn’t like he was even remotely capable of saying ‘no’ to her.  Even if he wasn’t drunk as fuck.  So, he peeled off the other shoe, discarding it more violently than necessary and making Felicity giggle yet again.  And…Oliver gave this foot the same treatment as the first.

Except, maybe, this time, he let himself get as lost in this massage as Felicity did.  Oliver just couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of her skin under his fingertips and the soft happy sounds she made.

But when Oliver felt her other foot, the bare one, land on his knee…run up his thigh…her perfect toes curling…

“I’ll get you some water,” Oliver muttered, standing far too abruptly to look anything by… _insane_.  “Water and ibuprofen.  That’s what we need.”

Christ, he sounded like a tongue-tied fool, but Oliver needed to get away from Felicity right the fuck _now._  Or all his plans were going to go to shit.

Hell, his plans had _already_ gone to shit.  Oliver needed a _new_ plan.  ASAP.  It would help if he had a working brain. 

Oliver hurried to the kitchen, refusing to allow himself to even look back at Felicity, one mantra repeating in his head:

They were _not_ going to have sex tonight.

They were not.

No.

No. No. _No_ repeats of last summer.  Just _no_.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver pulled two glasses and a bottle of ibuprofen from the same cabinet they had always been in, since the day they had unpacked from Ivytown, and it kind of made his chest ache, but...he forced himself to pull open the fridge, hoping that Felicity still had that Brita and…

“Felicity!”

“Hmm?”  Felicity’s head popped up over the edge of the couch, an innocent look painted across her beautiful face.  Which probably meant that she knew _exactly_ what Oliver was horrified at. “What?”

_What_?  Oliver threw her an incredulous look.  “You have no _food_!”

For a brilliant woman…did Felicity have _any_ ability to take care of herself?  Because other than the Brita, the only thing in this refrigerator (the one Oliver had always kept so lovingly stocked) was an impressive collection of coffee creamers.

“Oh _that_.” Felicity waved a dismissive hand, turning back around to settle into the couch again.  “There’s ice cream in the freezer.”

How does that make it okay?  “That does _not_ count!”

Felicity shrugged, throwing over her shoulder, “I eat most of my meals at the Bunker, anyway.  I practically live there…which is where you live.  Huh.  It’s almost like we still live together.”

If someone told Oliver that his heart had literally stopped at those words, he wouldn’t have been surprised.  His hand flexed on the refrigerator door and his eyes flew to Felicity.  But all he could see was a messy ponytail lying over the edge of the couch.  He waited for her to realize what she had just said.  To retreat.  To babble and excuse her words.

But in her drunken state, Felicity just plowed forward, “Just without the sleeping together part.”

Just without the sleeping together part?  Seriously?

Oliver sucked in a breath and hid his face in the refrigerator, wishing it was colder in there than it was.  Maybe a blast of ice cold… _something_ would help. 

When he finally felt like he had enough self-control to face her, Oliver pulled out the Brita and poured.   Then, gathering the glasses and the pills, he headed back to the sofa. 

He needed to get out of here.  Fast.  Before he cracked. 

Oliver had _never_ been so close to cracking.

He set their water on the coffee table, planning to sit there as well.  Minimum safe distance and all that.  But, somehow, he found himself collapsing next to Felicity on the sofa instead.  So, yeah.  Oliver wondered when he would regain actual muscle control.

“I’m glad to see that you got some for yourself.  Is Oliver Queen _actually_ concerned about getting a hangover?” Felicity sassed, her head lazily rolling over the back of the couch until she met his eyes.

Oliver Queen was actually pretty concerned about _sobering up_.  “Felicity, hon…” Oliver tried not to wince as the endearment slipped out without being given permission to do so.  “I haven’t been _this_ drunk in a _long_ time.” He hoped the confession would distract her from his slip up.

“Really?” Felicity smile and tone made it clear she was pretty damn delighted by the prospect.  Which was worrisome, actually.  She sat up, tucking her feet under her.  “You don’t seem _that_ drunk.”

Felicity had _no_ idea.  He was more sober than he had been at the bar, but, still…  “Trust me, I am.”  Oliver rubbed his forehead, confessing, “I never should have given into Rene’s crap.  That was a lot of bourbon in a short amount of time.”

Felicity nodded her agreement, though she didn’t seem to find it a bad thing.  “You _did_ empty the bottle.”

Oliver’s eyes flew to hers.  “We did?”  How did he not notice that?  He usually noticed that stuff.

His question just made Felicity giggle again, but when he handed her the ibuprofen she took it, so that was something.  Oliver swallowed his own, wishing it would do more than prevent a headache.  Being this drunk was completely unacceptable.  What had he been thinking?

“I don’t think I’ve been this drunk since before Lian Yu.” 

Had he said that out loud?  He did.  Oliver had said that out loud. 

Not that it was something Oliver needed to keep from Felicity, but he hadn’t consciously decided to share either.  God only knew what the next thought was that was going to pop out without permission.

Felicity seemed pleased with the confession, though.  She pushed the water glass away and shifted closer, asking, “What about last summer?”

Oh… _shit_.  Were they going to _actually_ talk about it?  Also, was it Oliver’s imagination or did her voice just go all husky?  He was _way_ too drunk to talk about last summer.  _Or_ to resist Felicity’s sexy voice.

Swallowing, Oliver reminded himself to keep his hands _and_ his endearments to himself.  “Felicity, I was barely buzzed last summer.”  Her, on the other hand…

Why that made Felicity grin wider, Oliver couldn’t guess, but she reached out and cupped his cheek, her fingers playing with his earlobe and…

Oh, dear God…

Oliver closed his eyes and when he opened them again Felicity was staring at his lips and so close that he...

God _damn_ it!  Body, _please,_ listen to him.  For _once_.

So, of course, Oliver’s hand reached out and rested gently on her cheek, making her smile soften.

“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice was far gruffer than he would have liked.  “We can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Felicity’s eyes were still on his lips.  She was so close that Oliver could feel her breath.  And she clearly wasn’t hearing him.

Suppressing a groan, Oliver forced himself to say, “We can’t have a repeat of last summer.”

Oliver could tell the exact moment that his words sunk in, because Felicity went stiff.  She sat back.  Her hand fell away.  Hurt clouded her eyes.

Fuck.  Fuck.  _Fuck_.

“I _want_ to kiss you,” Oliver blurted out in a rush, trying to make that _look_ go away.  This was even worse than the seduction question on the street.  “ _God_ , I want to kiss you.” 

Felicity smiled, just a tiny bit, but her forehead crinkled in confusion.  “Then…”

This just might kill him. 

“Not like _this_ ,” Oliver managed to whisper, but she still looked confused.  What was he thinking?  Of _course_ , she was confused.  He was making zero sense.  “Felicity, last summer I…I went into that night…” God fucking _damn_ it!  “I can’t do casual sex.  Not with you.  I _can’t_ ,” he confessed in a rush, feeling like a pathetic drunken fool as he did. 

This had to be his punishment for all those years of treating woman like shit.  Oliver hoped, wherever she was, that Laurel was enjoying the show.

But his confession did earn Oliver a small smile.  “I realized that too.  After,” Felicity murmured, guilt falling over her face like a shadow, which really wasn’t something Oliver wanted, either.  But then she swallowed, leaning forward and whispering, “But _this_ doesn’t have to be casual.  I mean, it _isn’t_ casual.  That is, as long as you _want_ …not casual.”

“Oh, I _want_ ,” Oliver said far more vehemently than he would have liked, though the unrestricted honestly seemed to be working, because Felicity beamed at him.

“Good.  Me too.”

Oliver’s heart kinda stuttered.  God, was this really happening?  “I just want to do it right.  One step at a time.”

“I’d like that very much,” she murmured and the look Felicity gave him…well, Oliver would gladly drown in it.

Felicity started to lean toward him again, but before she could kiss him, Oliver managed to get out, “Which means not starting _anything_ without a clear, _sober_ mind.”

Oliver really couldn’t believe he was doing this.  Saying ‘no’ to a kiss from Felicity.  Was he _insane_?  He wasn’t kidding when he said there was nothing he wanted more.  And, now, he had to worry about Felicity being insulted or hurt or….

But, when she pulled back, Felicity just looked sad and Oliver had no idea if that was worse or not. 

“I really hurt you this summer, didn’t I?”

_Crap_.  He wasn’t expecting the conversation to take _that_ particular turn.  Oliver opened his mouth to deny it.  Or, at least, say he deserved it (which he _did_ ), but nothing came out.

Felicity sighed.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.”  Oliver shook his head, regretting that he said anything at all.  Reaching out, he ran a finger down Felicity’s cheek.  “I thought we were done with sorries.”

Felicity gave him the smallest of smiles.  “Oliver, if this is going where I _hope_ it’s going, we’re never going to be done with sorries.  Sorries are a part of making a life together.  Just like mistakes are part of living.”

God, Oliver loved this woman.  “You are awfully wise for a drunk girl.”

“In Vino Veritas.”  Felicity leaned into Oliver’s hand, which still hadn’t strayed from her cheek, he noticed.

And Oliver was, suddenly, struck with the impulse to ask something he really shouldn’t. 

“Felicity, can I ask you something?” Because, apparently, impulses were to be indulged that night.

“Of course.”

Right.  _Of course_.  Did he think Felicity would refuse?  There was still a chance to back out before Oliver said something really stupid.  It wasn’t too late.  He could let the conversation end here.

“That night, I…” Oliver just couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.  He must be glutton for punishment.  Self-destructive to the extreme.  “It seemed pretty obvious to me…with the wine and the take-out…where things were going.  Hell, even Curtis—”

Felicity sighed, her smile fading.  “I knew.”

Of course, she had, but that didn’t make anything clearer in Oliver’s mind.  “Then why?  I mean, why did you agree to it?  Or…did something change during?” Like bad sex?  “Because you seemed really happy.”  And that orgasm didn’t seem bad.  Unless…Felicity _faked_ it.  No.  She couldn’t have.  Why _would_ she?  “Or were looking for closure—?”

“Oh, Oliver…” She groaned, pushing up her glasses to rub her eyes.  Felicity looked like she was having about as much fun with this conversation as he was, but now it really _was_ too late to back out.  “Okay, so…you want the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

Um…actually, Oliver wasn’t too sure about that one.

“Yes.”  That sounded sure.  Oliver hoped it sounded sure, ‘cause really, he was anything _but_ sure.

Felicity threw herself onto the couch, tossing her legs onto Oliver’s lap and making him smile through his (admittedly blunted by alcohol) anxiety.  God, imagine how awful this would have been _without_ the bourbon?  Then, again, they probably would have skipped the entire traumatic conversation without the alcohol.

Her eyes focused on the ceiling, Felicity began, “I probably shouldn’t have…done the whole wine and take-out thing.  I _did_ know what it implied and I…I knew that nothing had really changed for me at that point.  That I wasn’t ready to… _talk_.  To face everything.  To do all the hard work it would take to work through our issues.”

Felicity trailed off and Oliver…he just didn’t know what to make of her confession.  “So why…?”

Shaking her head, Felicity shrugged, her eyes still searching the ceiling for unknown answers.  “I guess I just…I missed you.  I missed _us_.  I just…I suppose, I just decided not to overthink things for once and…” She was quiet for a moment, her face all scrunched up as if she were in pain.  “So....this going to sound selfish…”

Felicity turned her eyes to Oliver’s, looking for…encouragement, he guessed.  His hands fell to her ankles and squeezed, hoping that was what she was looking for.

She gave him a grateful smile, so it seemed like it was.  Than Felicity returned her gaze to the high ceiling and began even more quietly, “The last time we made love…or had sex or…whatever—”

“Made love,” Oliver murmured, correcting her before he could stop himself.

It made Felicity stop and look at him, her face relaxing as she chuckled softly.  “You are such a sap, Oliver Queen.”  She reached out a hand and he took it, letting their combined hands fall loosely on her stomach as she continued, “So the last time we _made love_ …before, it was a quickie and I…I pretended to have an orgasm,” she confessed in a rush and Oliver winced, glad that she’d squeezed her eyes tightly shut and couldn’t see, “because I was paralyzed and it took so much _time_ and effort to have an orgasm and I knew you wouldn’t finish until I did and we needed to get to Physical Therapy…”

Her voice cracked and Oliver… 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, squeezing her hand, though his own throat was closing as he remembered that morning.  Not because Felicity had pretended, Oliver understood that, but because of the circumstances that led to it.  His thumb started to caress her ankle bone and he decided just to let it.

Relaxing under his hands, Felicity continued, “I just kept thinking about how phenomenal our sex life _used_ to be.  _Before_.”  That, at least, made Oliver smile.  He’d thought so too, but it felt good to know she agreed.  Yet, Felicity seemed to think better of her words and rushed to correct, “Not that it wasn’t after I was hurt—”

“I understand,” Oliver reassured.  I wasn’t like he hadn’t thought at length about the difference in their sex lives before and after Felicity’s injury.

Sighing, Felicity squeezed his hand, though she still wouldn’t meet Oliver’s eyes.  “I just wanted to feel that again.  For my last memory of us together to be amazing.”

Oliver felt like she had kicked him.  There were so many things buried in that one simple statement.  “So, it _was_ about closure?”

Felicity’s eyes flew to his.  “ _No_!  I mean…I didn’t mean the last ever.  I couldn’t even make myself contemplate the idea of last _ever_ , the idea was… _is_ so awful.”

That made him feel better.  It did, but…swallowing, Oliver couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, his voice horse, “I’m sorry, too.  Sorry, that it wasn’t amazing like you wanted.”

Felicity looked taken aback by that.  And confused.  Really, confused.  “What are you talking about?”

And…yet another thing Oliver shouldn’t have brought up.  “That night.  I know it was ‘ _nice’_ , but you were looking for amazing…” Great, now he sounded like a sullen boy.

And what didn’t help… Felicity bursting out laughing. 

Not a giggle.  Not a chuckle.  Or even regular laughter. 

No, Felicity laughed so hard she convulsed with it, her feet jerking out of his lap as she rolled over into a fetal position with her uproarious laughter.

Oliver tried really hard not to be offended.

“Are you telling me,” Felicity finally forced out, through the gasps of laughter, “that _Oliver Queen_ has been questioning his performance all this time?  Insecure because I said it was ‘nice’?”

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …” Oliver growled, feeling the blood rush to his face and fighting the urge to bolt.

“I sorry, I…” Felicity sat up and reached for him.  When Oliver didn’t move, her hand settled on his knee. “No, you know what?  I’m not sorry.  It’s too funny.  Since _when_ do you question your prowess in bed?”

Okay, it was too much.  This was already a sore subject and her reaction was like pouring salt in a wound.  Oliver snapped.  “Since my fiancé walked out on me and then couldn’t get away from me fast enough after we had drunken bunker sex.”

That stopped the laughter real quick.  In fact, Felicity’s face fell so completely that Oliver was left feeling even worse.  Fuck.  “I’m sorry.  That was uncalled for.  I shouldn’t have—”

“No.”  Felicity put up her hand and shook her head firmly, before very carefully scooting closer.  “I’m sorry.  That was…very insensitive of me.  It’s just that…Oliver, the sex was spectacular.  Beyond amazing.  And it never even occurred to me that you didn’t realize that.  I still can’t fathom how you could have thought otherwise.”

Okay…now, Oliver just felt like a moron.  An insecure idiot.  He was having trouble looking at her, in fact.  “Well, I _thought_ it was, but then…I guess, I was just being foolish.”

“Ah…yeah.”  Felicity’s tone went straight back to making it sound like the silliest thing ever.  But she smiled and swung her legs back into his lap.

And now that Oliver had heard Felicity’s side of things, he couldn’t believe he had spent _months_ second guessing himself because the word she used to describe the experience hadn’t been effusive enough.  Maybe, it _was_ the silliest thing ever.

Felicity leaned back on the sofa, that soft look back on her face as Oliver’s hands automatically went back to caressing her feet. 

Well, she _put_ them there.  What did Felicity expect Oliver to do?

“Actually,” Felicity murmured, her voice gentle again, “I think that, maybe, the sex… _love making_ …was too good.”

“Impossible,” Oliver, again, replied instinctively, without taking a moment to think about what he was saying.  Though, he stood by his statement.  Even if he was now fighting the fact that Felicity words were having a distinct effect on his anatomy.  Not too far from where her feet lie. At least, he knew that the alcohol wasn’t affecting _that_.

Felicity gave him a sleepy grin.  “It was so good…not just the sex, but all of it…the laughing and the talking and the cuddling and the just _being together_.  It felt so right and easy that it…it terrified me.”

She had Oliver’s full attention now.  Felicity’s words seemed to flow out into the room, over and around him.  It was comforting and just another thing he hadn’t realized how much he missed.

“It would have been so _easy_ to fall back into a relationship.  To forget everything that went wrong or…to ignore it.  To lose myself in you.  Again.  So, I got scared and ran.  Two days later, I accepted Billy’s invitation for coffee.” Felicity let out a self-deprecating huff, wrinkling her nose at the ceiling.  “Not my finest moment.”

Oliver had no idea what to say, no idea how to…comfort her or…how he should take any of it.  Funny how that was exactly what he had been hoping would happen.  That they would just drift back together without having to do any work, but Felicity was right.  If that had happened, without them working at anything, whose to say it all wouldn’t have fallen apart again?

That was the old, lazy, Ollie way of handling relationship problems.  Brush over his fuck-ups with charm and orgasms.  Felicity deserved better.  Maybe, they both did.  They deserved the kind of relationship that only came from hard work.

So…this was a start, right?  God, Oliver hoped so.  He wanted to do it the right way…the hard way.  Not that he had any idea of how to go about it.

The only thing Oliver could think to do, at the moment, was…to give into the impulse he had been fighting since he stepped into the Loft.  Which wasn’t hard at all.

Lifting Felicity’s foot to his cheek, Oliver pressed a kiss to the ball of her foot.  He really _was_ developing a foot fetish.

Smiling, Felicity held out her hand for him and, this time, when Oliver took it, she used his grip to leverage herself up.  Then, half sitting in his lap, she reached out and cupped his cheek so she could meet his eyes.  “But now isn’t then, Oliver.  Last summer, nothing had changed.  Now, everything has changed.  You see that, right?”

Oliver nodded unsteadily.  “I _do_.”  Felicity beamed at his word choice (even though Oliver was a little embarrassed by it) and he chanced to add, “I’m willing to work as hard as I need to, Felicity.  What ever it takes.”

He didn’t think Felicity’s smile could get any wider, but it did.  “Me too,” she whispered, leaning even closer. “We should kiss on it.”

God, she made him laugh.

“Felicity, I really, really want to kiss you, but…if we’re going to do this right this time, shouldn’t our first kiss of this new… _thing_ we have going on, shouldn’t it be with both of us completely clear-headed.”

Felicity scrunched up her nose.  “I guess.”  Though, she didn’t look (or sound) convinced.  At all.  “Anyone ever tell you that this new _Mature_!Oliver is no fun?”

Oliver grinned.  “No one that counts.  Until now.”  Actually, her opinion might be the only one that mattered in this particular matter.

“Fine.”  Felicity swung her legs off of his lap and reached to take a drink of water.

Leaning over, Oliver kissed Felicity’s temple because, apparently, that was all he was allowed to do with these new rules he just set.  Why did he do that again? 

Taking Felicity’s hand, Oliver murmured, “Walk me out?” Because if he stayed, there was no way he was going to be able to keep this up.

Felicity gave him a melty sort of smile and nodded.

Once they were at the door, Oliver turned to Felicity and…he really needed to go.

He _really_ didn’t want to.

Taking both of Felicity’s hands in his, he sucked in a deep breath.  Responsible!Oliver might be no fun, but it was who he needed to be right then.  “Finish your water and sleep in tomorrow.  Text me at City Hall when you finally wake up.”

Felicity’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth as if she were going to say something, but then she just licked her lips and shook her head.  “So…let me get this straight, we’re not kissing right now because drunken kisses don’t count?”

Okay.  Not sure where Felicity was going with this.  “Ummm…yeah?”  Why did this feel like a trap?

“So…” Felicity popped up onto her toes, grabbing Oliver’s face and taking him off guard.  Then her lips were pressed to his.

Oliver might have moaned.  It just felt _that_ good.  But before he could give in and kiss her back, Felicity pulled her lips from his.

“Since that doesn’t count,” Felicity argued, her voice low and smooth, “we can have our first sober kiss of our new relationship later and _tonight_ —”

Fuck.  Oliver cupped the back of Felicity’s head and yanked her lips back to his.

She let out a small, “Eep,” as Oliver gave into his body and let his brain shut the _hell up_.  Tilting her head to the side, his mouth slanted over hers and…Felicity didn’t require much urging to open her lips and then their tongues touched and he moaned into her mouth or, maybe, she moaned into his or, maybe, they were simultaneous...

God, it felt like coming home.  Even more so than last summer.  Perhaps because this time so much that had been between them had finally been cleared away.  Oliver felt free.  Light.  They were barely together and yet they felt so much more connected than they had when they were engaged.

Tongues stroked, then tangled. One soft hand settled on his neck and another carded through his hair.  Felicity’s ponytail holder was long gone and her hair overflowing his fist and…Oliver’s brain was overloading.

There was no control left to be had.

Oliver’s hands found the edge of that too short red skirt and this time he didn’t try to stop them when they slid underneath and cupped Felicity’s fabulous ass…God, he’d missed that ass.  And that reminded him…

Pulling away from the kiss, panting, Oliver ignored Felicity’s moan of protest and caught the string at her neck with his teeth and pulled. 

It fell apart easily. 

By the time it did, Felicity had stopped protesting and was just moaning, cupping the back of Oliver’s head and pulling him closer as he buried his face between the parted fabric, brushing his lips back and forth along the flesh that had tormented him.

“Oliver…” Felicity whimpered, her head thrown back.

Okay.

What the fuck was he doing?

With great effort, Oliver pulled back.  Placing a chaste kiss between her breasts, he set Felicity back on her feet (when had he lifted her off her feet?) and stepped away before it was too late.

“I, uhh…” And now who was talking in sentence fragments?  “I look forward to that first kiss.  The one that, uh… _counts_.”  Oliver sounded breathless even to his own ears.

Felicity let out another giggle, muffled behind her tightly clasped lips. She straightened her glasses and smiled, her lipstick a whole lot lighter and just the tiniest bit smeared.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  Me, too.”

Um, so Oliver was supposed to leave now, right?

“So...bye, then.”

Felicity’s smile was not helping matters.  Neither was the come-hither look in her eyes.  Or the way her mussed hair…hair mussed by Oliver’s hands…framed her beautiful face. 

“Bye.”

Crap.  He really needed to leave. 

Nodding, Oliver was finally able to make his body turn to go.

He made it exactly seven steps before Felicity called him back, “Oliver?” 

When he looked over his shoulder, Felicity was leaning against the door jam, her toes drawing circles on the hard wood.  “So, your birthday is Tuesday…”

Oliver smiled, insanely pleased that she had even remembered.  Especially, since he hadn’t.  “I guess it is.”  He shoved his hands into his pockets and, maybe, he even shuffled his feet a little.  He really hoped that Felicity didn’t notice.

“You should come over for dinner.”

Oliver tried really hard not to grin like a fool.  He was pretty sure that he failed.  “I’d like that.”

Biting her lip, Felicity nodded.  “I’ll, uh…go light on the champagne.”

Oh wow.

“Good idea.” Oliver wasn’t able to hold back his happy laugh.

With one last smile, Felicity murmured, “Good night,” and closed the door.

Oliver stared at the door, grinning like a maniac, for a full minute before he could make himself move.  He didn’t think he had ever looked forward to a birthday more. 

 

_chapter edited 1/1/2018_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> The next chapter with be Oliver’s birthday party (5x22), during and after.  If the end of this chapter implies a very different sort of birthday celebration, that will be addressed in both chapter 4  and two-shot AU called Best Birthday Ever, where Felicity goes in a decidedly more E rated direction for the party she throws.  :-)
> 
> My everlasting love and gratitude to **Fairytalehearts** , **Imusuallyobsessed** , and **Ireland1733** for all their help and support! 
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/ or Twitter, also **Emmilynestill**. 
> 
> Happy Reading,
> 
> Emmy


	4. (Not So) Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> This chapter takes place during and immediately after Oliver’s Birthday Party in 5x22. My intention is for nothing in here to contradict cannon through the end of season 5, even though there is quite a lot of additional Olicity goodness. 
> 
> I do have a very non-cannon version of Oliver’s Birthday Party as a two shot A, so check it out if you are interested. :-)

Felicity wondered if this counted as chickening out or not.

When her drunken (and blissed out) mind had decided to ask Oliver over for a birthday celebration, Felicity had something significantly more… _intimate_ in mind. 

But in the cold, sober, hung-over light of day, Felicity had started to rethink the idea.  Well, maybe, it was more accurate to say she got nervous. 

Fine.  _Okay_.  Felicity started to freak the _frak_ out.  That’s what happened.  She _panicked_.

Felicity wanted to get back together.  Of _course_ , she did.  Oliver was the love of her life.  She’d missed him terribly and she forgave him and she had been absolutely miserable when they were apart and…

But…oh God, there were so _many_ ‘but’s.

Was it the right time?  Were they ready?  What if it didn’t work out?  Felicity didn’t know if she could survive another break-up.  And, what if, _this time,_ they couldn’t figure out how to be friends and partners after? 

No Oliver.  No Overwatch.  No team.  That was Felicity’s… _everything_.  

Wow, Felicity really needed to get a job, because that was just a little bit pathetic.  The year on that No Compete clause on her severance pay was up soon.  Thank God.

Not having a job just gave Felicity more time for these ridiculous, panicked head rambles and they were progressing to the point where there was a serious danger of dropping her, head first, in the loony bin.  Especially since, all these stupid endless ‘what if’s were a _waste of time_.  There was only one question left to ask:

If Felicity put her heart on the line one more time, was it worth the possibility of failing?  Was _Oliver_ worth the risk?

The answer to that question came swiftly every single time Felicity asked it of herself.  And with complete surety. 

_Yes_.

Absolutely.  Completely.  _Yes_. 

It was worth it.  _Oliver_ was worth it.  _They_ were worth it.  So, _so_ worth it. 

And more importantly (or at least _equally_ importantly), _she_ was worth it.  Felicity refused to be that person, the one who lived half a life because she was afraid of risking what she had for something so much greater (even though that had kinda, possibly been exactly what she’d been doing for the last year.  Was it any wonder that that year had sucked?).   

So, if Felicity’s answer was so clear, then what the hell was her team doing loitering in her Loft at a birthday party that both her and Oliver would prefer to be a hell of a lot smaller?

Okay.  That wasn’t fair.  It could be that Oliver was _thrilled_ to spend his birthday with his sister and his best friend and…

Oliver had said that they should take this one step at a time and that was…really smart.  It was.  They’d already agreed to try again and, no, she wasn’t wussing out on that.  Nope.  No way. Backing out now was unthinkable (and it, kind of, made Felicity hyperventilate when she even tried).  This was, clearly, what they both wanted. 

The only thing unclear was the pacing. 

One step at a time.  Very wise.  _But_ …

But what the hell _were_ these mysterious steps everyone kept talking about?

Was a private dinner at her apartment (the apartment they once shared as a soon-to-be married couple) too big of a step?  Felicity didn’t think so.  But what did _she_ know?

Certainly, the very intimate birthday Felicity had _fantasied_ about was.  The one she had dreamed up in her drunken state after Oliver had walked her home the night they had caught Chase…the night they had flirted and kissed and she gone upstairs to the _filthiest_ dreams… 

Awake.  Awake dreams.  Daydreams.  In the nighttime.  One might even call them plans. 

Plans for his birthday that may or may not have involved Felicity presenting herself to Oliver as his birthday cake and letting him eat frosting off every square inch of her.

Yeah...maybe, that wasn’t the _next_ logical step. 

Unfortunately.

Felicity sighed.  Maybe next birthday.  It was such a beautiful fantasy it would be a shame to waste it.

But once she had discarded her original plan (candles, frosting, and satin sheets, how she missed thee), Felicity had really struggled to find some sort of…in between.  Something…first date-y. 

What the hell did someone do on a first date with your partner in crime fighting/ex-fiancé/present soulmate/love of your life?  All of which made the very idea of a ‘ _first date’_ seem completely ludicrous.  The idea of sitting at a restaurant with everyone staring at them…ugh.  _No_. 

But ordering in to Felicity’s place (God knew she wasn’t going to _cook_ ), was that too much?  Was it too _little_?  Was that still just an invitation to come over for sex?  Was it _special_ enough?

All the second guessing made it really easy to jump on board when Thea suggested a surprise party. 

Even though, it really _felt_ like chickening out.  Because the more Felicity stood there, surrounded by friends and family, the more she realized that this wasn’t an in-between as much as a _side-step._  

And, frak, Felicity was seriously sick of side-steps.  At least, this showed how much she cared. How much _all_ of them cared.

Oliver didn’t have enough people making a fuss over him, showing him how much they loved and appreciated him.  The cake, the banners, the balloons, the presents…he deserved all that.  He meant a lot to them, all of them.  And this party made that clear.

Except, maybe, that was the problem.  The ‘all of them’ part.  Because Felicity needed to make it clear that _she_ loved and appreciated Oliver in a way that was very different than everyone else in this room.  And that was not clear.

So, maybe, when Felicity realized her mistake she… _panicked_.  And, maybe, she started spewing random… _hints_.  It was super suave.  Yup, eloquence thy name was Felicity Smoak.  And the worst of it…the Pacific Crest Trail.

Felicity had all but invited Oliver on a romantic weekend, just the two of them.  The opposite of one step at a time (which, apparently, she was terrible at).  And what made it was made soooo much better was the fact that she asked it in a totally messed up, backwards, passive way. Would Oliver even understand what Felicity had meant with her meandering word vomit?

What was she thinking?  Of _course_ , Oliver understood.  There was like…a negative twelve percent chance that he didn’t get it, it was _that_ obvious.   He had literally spent months trying to get Felicity to agree to go with him to the Pacific Crest Trail.  Wheedling and cajoling.  Promising all sorts of lovely things.

But, the thing was, Felicity kinda, sorta… _hated_ camping.  And not just camping.   All outdoorsy, roughing it, lack of technology type activities.   Oliver had managed to convince her to branch out and try hiking in the Andes (just hiking, no tents), which had, granted, been beautiful. She’d give him that, but her feet had gotten wet and blistered and, in the end, they were a pealing, bloody, painful, disgusting mess and she had come to the conclusion… _never again_.

But Oliver had ignored the part about her not liking the outdoors (roughing it, lack of technology, etc.) and had focused on her feet.  He was certain that the right pair of socks would completely change the experience for her.  It had become somewhat of a joke with them.  He’d even promised to give her a mani/pedi himself (and implied that it would be the sexiest mani/pedi ever given) if he was wrong.  Or even if he was right.  The mani/pedi bribe was a given.

So…yeah, Oliver totally understood what Felicity was offering, bringing up the Pacific Crest Trail.   _Big time._   And he’d been about as subtle as a freight train in letting Felicity know that he got it. 

And, now, their friends thought Oliver had some weird sock fixation, but…

Felicity knew.  She knew _exactly_ what Oliver was trying to say in his sweet and painfully awkward way.  He was saying that he would go anywhere with her.  He was saying that he’d take care of her.  That he’d be prepared this time, make sure she never wore the wrong socks again.

_Ugh_.  Could they just fast forward through the weird stuff and go straight to the happily ever after part?  Because this part was insanely stressful.  And, boy, Felicity must be feeling desperate to agree to that stupid camping trip from hell (and, by camping trip from hell, she meant _any_ and _all_ camping trips).

It would also help if Felicity had allowed herself more than a half-a-glass of champagne.  Damn Oliver and his rule about starting off sober.  At least, he was as big of a nervous wreck as she was.  The adorkable bastard.

Adorkable.  It was the perfect word to describe Oliver tonight and, _God_ , it was hot.  This man could walk into a room of five-hundred strangers and charm the lot of them, exhibiting perfect grace.  And, here he was, in a room with his nearest and dearest, and he was an adorkable _mess_.

But this was the real Oliver.  The Oliver Felicity loved.

Except…

Felicity couldn’t help but worry that Oliver was just acting this way because she had gone too far, made him uncomfortable, gone _way_ overboard with this whole surprise party thing.  The balloons and the little kid’s cake (which she really loved and just couldn’t regret) and the arrow decorations and the special rented cocktail tables…

Yup, it was the _tables_ that put it over the top.  They said, ‘trying too hard’.  Especially, since there were only like eight people at this party. It would have been less weird if Dinah and Rene and Lyla had shown up.  And if the Central City Crew weren’t so involved in their own crisis, that they couldn’t pop over for a party and…

Who was Felicity kidding?  This wasn’t a party for fifty.  It was friends and family.  And fancy cocktail tables didn’t make up for the fact that Oliver had wanted this to be a _date_ , not a…whatever _this_ was. 

The greatest irony was that this stupid party was probably making her _more_ anxious, what with all the ‘subtle’ hints and innuendos the team had been tormenting her with.  Felicity probably would have been better off it _had_ been just her and Oliver.  She was never nervous for more than a few minutes once they were alone together and now…

And _now_ …Felicity had to wonder if some of Oliver’s…discomfort was because he was feeling unsure of _her_.  He’d been expecting a date and he had shown up to an _event_.  Who wouldn’t be confused.  Was he thinking that she had done this on purpose to put up roadblocks?  Because she had changed her mind?

All of which…so, _so_ not the case. But, the fact that Oliver had called their dating ‘ _hypothetical’_ (even _after_ the whole weird Pacific Crest Trail exchange) just showed how unsure he was.  And Felicity wasn’t sure if her response had been all that reassuring either.  Why was she such a spaz?  Maybe…

“Felicity?”

Oliver’s hand landed on her shoulder and Felicity really wished that it didn’t make her jump.  She could add that to the ever-growing list of regrets about this evening.  _Frak_.

“You, okay?”

Great.  She really must be acting weird if Oliver was asking her that.  In the middle of what was _supposed_ to be a happy event.  Felicity had canceled their (probably) date for a surprise party and now she couldn’t even… _properly party_.

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Of _course_.”  Pft!  _That_ was reassuring. 

What the hell was wrong with her?  Felicity did her best to smile, but it probably came off as moronic.  Or constipated.  If only she could have finished that glass of champagne.  Or five.

Oliver looked about as convinced as Felicity expected him to be.  Which was _not at all_. “Do you—?”

“Are you disappointed?” Felicity blurted out, her words overlapping Oliver’s. 

Awww, _crap_. 

Crap.  Crap.  Crap.  All Felicity could hope for now was that Oliver hadn’t understood what she said, since he had been talking at the same time. 

Oliver’s brow furrowed.  “What?”

Felicity considered lying.  She really did.  Oliver was giving her an out, intentional or otherwise.  She should take it.

Swallowing, Felicity braced herself.  What good would backtracking do her?  They had been dancing around things all night and look how far _that_ had gotten them.  “Are you _disappointed_?  That this isn’t just the two of us?” 

Because the last thing Felicity wanted was to disappoint him, when they had come so far in the last few days.  He had opened up so much and given so many lovely apologies and tried so hard to get this right. 

All Felicity had wanted to do was get this right.  It was Oliver’s _birthday_.  She really had wanted it to be a new beginning.  One that they would both remember fondly.  And right now, all she could imagine looking back and doing was cringing.

“No,” Oliver murmured, shaking his head, using the same tone he used when he said, ‘hypothetically dating his ex-fiancée.’  So, completely convincing.   “No…” Then he paused and looked directly into Felicity’s eyes, letting out a little sigh.  “Maybe a little.”

Points for honestly.  Oliver may even be doing better than Felicity in that department which was beyond sad, honesty when it came to feelings was _so_ much harder than it looked. 

Also, Oliver really _was_ adorable when he wrinkled his nose like that.  Felicity needed to say something.  Something _reassuring_ , instead of just staring at him like a lovesick puppy.  But…

“I just…” he murmured as Felicity stood chewing her on her lip and…dear lord, now he was shuffling his feet.  Could he get any more lovable?  “When you asked me to come over the other night, it seemed like…” Oliver looked up at her through his lashes and, seriously, it should be illegal, it was _that_ unfair.    

“That I was inviting you over for a very _different_ kind of celebration?” Felicity finished, taking pity on him.  And, maybe, herself a little too.  This was painful enough without dragging it out.

Oliver shrugged.  An endearing, unsure, little boy shrug.  “Kind of.  Yeah.”

“I did.” Felicity blurted.  Because, maybe, she was disappointed, too, and she had no one to blame but herself.  “I mean, I had something _very different_ in mind, but I was rather drunk and the next morning it didn’t seem like the best idea.”

His eyes flashed disappointment.  And hurt.  Oliver’s face shuttered and… _frak_.  “You changed you mind…?”

Dammit!  Felicity should have gone with the human birthday cake plan and to _hell_ with the consequences!

“Noooo!” Felicity rushed to reassure, though she wasn’t even sure if it was the truth.  “Yes.  Sort of…I mean, what I had _planned_ when I asked you over wasn’t so much taking things one step at a time as taking _flying leap_ forward.  And that seemed less… _wise_ in the harsh morning light.”

Oliver’s mouth convulsed in amusement and Felicity sagged in relief.   _Please_ , let him understand!

Finally, a small grin peeked out, but he was still doing that sinful, looking at Felicity through his eyelashes thing...and how did Oliver even manage to do that given he was like a foot taller than her?  

“This was a lot easier with a little liquid courage,” Felicity found herself confessing and Oliver’s grin spread just a bit more.

“I can get you some more champagne if you’d like?” Oliver offered, his eyes all soft and understanding. 

“Oh no!  Nuh uh!”  Seriously?   Felicity had not gone through all this to take the easy way out _now_.  “I have had exactly one-third a glass of Merlot and a half glass of champagne.  I’m not even _remotely_ drunk.  I’m not even buzzed, so…”

Okay, now she was babbling.  Like an idiot.  She was nervous as hell, but…what Felicity wanted was _so much_ clearer with Oliver smiling down at her with those soft, soft eyes.  Perhaps, it was less the alcohol and more his proximity that made it so much easier the other night.

Swallowing, Felicity pressed forward, “So if you want to...say _linger_ after everyone else is gone…? _Maybe_ we can have that very _sober_ conversation that you mentioned the other night?  Maybe we can tidy up and then…?”

Then they could have that very _clear-headed_ first kiss, the one that _counted_.  And after…

Oliver let loose a blinding smile.  “You know how much I enjoy housekeeping.”

The really bizarre thing was, Oliver _did_.  Spoiled little rich boy, adored keeping house.  And had been living in a Bunker for _fourteen months_. 

It was heartbreaking.

Almost as if on cue, Thea approached Oliver from behind.  Standing up on her toes, she put her arms around her brother’s shoulders and leaned her cheek on his upper arm.  “So, birthday boy?  Old Man Quentin is heading home and since I’m on the way, I’m going to hitch a ride with him.”

It was an obvious lie.  Thea had driven there herself.  

But Oliver didn’t know that.  Felicity had to bite her lip and look away to keep from giving anything away.  Far be it from her to contradict Thea.  Especially, since she was, clearly, trying to help.  God knew Felicity needed all the help she could get.

Oliver turned to hug his sister.  “Thank you, Speedy.  For everything.”  He whispered the words against Thea’s temple, but Felicity heard it and...

Well, for the first time, Felicity thought, maybe, she hadn’t done the wrong thing in having a family celebration.  Especially, if Thea and the others headed out nice and early so they could still have their _not-so-hypothetical_ date.

Oliver pressed a kiss to his sister’s forehead and Thea smiled up at him, saying, “After you get out of City Hall tomorrow, I’ll take you sock shopping.”

Felicity started to choke, which she managed to turn into a cough that left Thea looking at her with narrowed eyes and Oliver rubbing Felicity’s back soothingly (the last part wasn’t bad at all).

 “It’s a date,” Oliver told his sister, pointedly ignoring Felicity’s convulsions, and smiling with (Felicity knew) false enthusiasm at Thea.

How did he say that with a straight face?  Felicity swore, if Oliver started getting an influx of gift socks she didn’t know what she would do.

As soon as she closed the door behind Thea and Quintin, Felicity turned to Oliver and whispered, “Are you going to tell her that you don’t _really_ need new socks?”

Oliver’s eyes widened in mock innocence.  “I _always_ need new socks.”

Felicity smothered a semi-hysterical laugh. “Oliver, Thea’s going to think you have a weird sock… _thing_?”

“Sock...thing?” Oliver’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his voice dropped an octave and…finally, some good honest flirtation.  _Without alcohol_.  “What sort of _sock thing_?”

But, now, if Felicity wanted to continue this…she to actually had to continue it.  And her nerves hadn’t calmed enough for the flirting to flow freely yet.  Frak.  

Tilting her head and batting her eyes, Felicity (God, hoped she didn’t look ridiculous) murmured, “Not sure.  It’s _your_ sock thing.  Though, I have to wonder if it’s the sort of thing you want to share with your _baby sister_ of all people?”

Felicity felt that her supposedly brilliant mind should have been able to come up with something wittier, but Oliver’s dimples popped out and he leaned in close so she was pretty pleased with the results, all things considered.  They were both woefully out of practice with this flirting thing.

“Hey, man,” John interrupted with a hand clasp on Oliver’s shoulder, but Felicity forgave the interference because he quickly made an (again, _fake_ ) excuse to leave so he could Skype with Lyla before she went to bed (because the director of ARGUS had a strict bedtime).  And even better, he turned to Curtis, with a firm, “Come on, Curtis, I’ll walk you out.”

Yeah…Digg really didn’t do subtle.  But he was still Felicity’s favorite. 

Curtis, the lovable clueless… _idiot_ , just shook his head.  “Nah.  I think I’ll stay and help Felicity clean up.”

Hands down.  Digg was her favorite.  Now, Curtis...it took everything in Felicity not to let out an audible sigh of frustration

“Don’t you have to get that modulator thing to Dinah?” Digg prodded, this time with an even _less_ subtle tone.

Except…still too subtle for Curtis.  “Oh, I can drop it off after,” he told Digg in a cheerful tone, not even seeming to notice John’s very pointed and rather annoyed look.  And John’s annoyed look was pretty damn intimidating.

Wow, maybe, Curtis really _did_ have a concussion. 

“I can help Felicity clean up,” Oliver threw out, apparently, deciding that Digg needed backup.  Which he did, but it also drew all eyes to him and…

Oliver stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away.  Yup, that was pretty damn subtle as well.  Was there ever a more socially inept group?

“Dude, it’s your _birthday_.” Curtis actually looked horrified by the idea.  “You can’t clean up at your own party.” It would have been endearing if it didn’t make Felicity want to cry.

Digg didn’t even bother to hide his eye-roll this time.  “Dude, maybe, I should take you to the hospital and get your head checked out.”

Curtis stood there, confused, long enough for Felicity to think that the hospital might just be a good idea and wonder if she should step in, but if she did, God only _knew_ what would come out of her _mouth_.

Felicity was five seconds away from blurting out that she and Oliver needed _alone time_ when finally… _finally_ , Curtis’ eyes went comically wide and he babbled, “Oh…ooooh… _right_!  I should definitely bring this to Dinah.  Tonight.  Right now, in fact.”

Thank frak.

Huffing out a long-suffering sigh, Digg shook his head.  “Say goodnight, Curtis.”

“Bye, guys!”  Curtis said way too brightly.  Had someone let him drink with a head injury?  Is _that_ what was going on?  “Happy Birthday, Oliver!”  Then he turned to Felicity and mouthed, “I’ll call you,” his hand up to his ear like a mock phone and it was all suddenly clear.

This entire, _ridiculous_ display was because Curtis wanted to stay behind and grill Felicity about Oliver.  _Awesome_.  It was like high school all over again.  If she had actually dated in high school.  Or had friends.

Felicity really, really wanted to tell Curtis she’d talk to him _tomorrow_ and not to call unless someone was _mortal_ danger, but that might have been a little too much, especially with Oliver standing right next to her.  She didn’t trust Curtis not to make another scene.  And the last thing she wanted was something that would keep him there one minute longer.

“Goodnight, John.  Night, Curtis,” Felicity ushered (and, maybe, kinda even pushed) Curtis through the door, then paused (briefly) to give John a quick kiss on the cheek and a murmured, “Thank you.”

When Felicity finally…fi-na- _lly_ got the door closed, she turned to Oliver…

What…the…?

Felicity expected to find Oliver right where she had left him.  Next to her.   But…

Scanning the room…oh _dear God_.  

Oliver was in the kitchen, pulling out storage containers Felicity honestly forgot they… _she_ had.  All ready starting to ‘tidy up’.

“What are you doing?” Felicity gasped, watching in shock as Oliver brought them over to the cake and began to meticulously pack it up.   “Oliver, you don’t _actually_ have to clean up your own party.” 

Wasn’t it obvious that that was ruse?  An excuse for alone time?  The mess could sure as _hell_ wait.  Felicity’s nerves could not. 

But Oliver was smiling softly, looking oddly content.  He was such a strange man.  “I don’t want your amazing cake going to waste.”

Well, at least, the cake was a success.  “You know, I didn’t invite you to stay, because I needed help cleaning up.”  It seemed so wrong for Oliver to pack up his own cake, and besides, Felicity was hoping they could…she didn’t really know, but…do or say something, _anything_ , that would officially move them past all this awkward beginning… _crap_.  “I can do it later—”

Oliver paused and leveled her a serious (and very honest) look.   “Felicity, there is, _truthfully_ , no place I’d rather be.  Nothing I’d rather be doing.”

“ _Really_?” 

Felicity was, frankly, shocked at how much innuendo she had managed to pack into that one little word.  Without even trying. Or giving herself permission to do so.

It was worth it, though, because the look Oliver sent her was so hot, so…dear God, it made Felicity’s legs rubbery. 

“Well, maybe, not _nothing_ I’d rather do.”  And the sexy rumble in Oliver’s voice…this was what she was talking about.  Flirting at its prime.  

But Oliver went _right_ back to packing up the cake, quickly falling into his bashful domestic routine and it was so…adorable and, somehow, equally hot, and so not the Oliver Queen the public would expect that…oddly, it made Felicity giggle.

Oliver’s eyes flew to hers and Felicity’s eyes widened in mild panic.  “That was not a giggle,” she defended.  No _way_ were they going down this path again.  “I am _not_ drunk.  That was…a _chuckle_.  A slightly high-pitched chuckle, but a chuckle all the same.”  She almost believed it.

Thankfully, Oliver didn’t call her out on it.  He just gave her a soft chuckle of his own and stacked the, now full, containers and carried them back to the kitchen.  Felicity grabbed two half-empty champagne glasses and scurried behind him. 

Once Oliver had placed the cake in the refrigerator, Felicity placed a hand on his arm to stop him from doing more, pleading softly, “Really, this can _wait_.”

If they didn’t move on to… _whatever_ they were moving on to, Felicity was going to explode.

Oliver froze, his frighteningly intelligent blue gaze looking her over as if it could see straight into her soul.  Finally, he murmured, “Okay.” And…

Then his hands were back in his pockets and Oliver was doing that shuffling thing again…what a pair they made.  At least, Felicity didn’t have to worry about him being able to read her mind.  He wouldn’t be nearly this nervous if he had _that_ particular ability.

“So, we should talk…” Felicity said, trying to move things along, but she was no better than he was, standing there wringing her hands. 

It would help, of course, if Felicity knew what they were supposed to talk _about_.  They’d hit her top twenty important topics while they were stuck in the tunnels under the Bunker and then, after, in the Med Bay at ARGUS.  Now, she was mostly interested in…moving _beyond_ the talking stuff.

Oliver nodded, but didn’t say anything, which was rather annoying, since, as Felicity had been obsessing about all night…she didn’t know what _the hell_ they had left to talk about! 

Great, now Felicity was getting _really_ nervous again and…

Then Oliver lifted his head and Felicity met his eyes and…the anxiety just… _drifted away_. 

Felicity just kind of got lost there for a while.

And it was good.  A _good_ kind of lost.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” Oliver whispered after who knew how long.

But it was Oliver’s tone, all velvety rough, that sent chills down Felicity’s spine, all the while turning her blood into liquid honey so her whole body felt… _more_.

This.  If they could just do _this_ all night, that would be okay.

Felicity smiled.  Though, she wouldn’t be surprised if it trembled just a bit on her lips, and placed a hand on Oliver’s lapel.  It was amazing how touching him, even a touch as simple as this one, grounded her.  “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

Then there was _more_ gazing and _more_ smiling.  And it might have been several more minutes before either of them said anything.

At long last, Oliver said, “I love your dress.  It’s a fantastic color for you.”

Felicity chuckled (she was almost proud that she didn’t giggle.  She was feeling oddly giddy).  Oh, and look, her hands was still on his lapel.  “We could just stand here all night exchanging compliments or we could…go over to the _couch_ and… _talk_ …” 

And by ‘talk’ Felicity meant make out like bunnies, but, well, one step at a time and all.  She’d settle for holding hands at the moment.

“Oh…yeah.” Oliver seemed to wake up.  He shook his head and blinked his eyes as if snapping out of a trance and…then he seemed to get nervous again.  Greeeat.  “Let’s…”

Oliver extended his hand, gesturing for Felicity to go ahead, ever the gentleman.  Would it be weird if she just grabbed it?

She didn’t.  Grab his hand, that was.  She just barely managed to keep from wringing hers (again) as she walked ahead of him and settled on the couch.  Oliver followed and they turned and looked at one another and…yeah, Felicity _still_ didn’t have a freakin’ clue what to say.

“So…” Felicity tried prompting, praying Oliver would know where to begin.

“So…” Yeah, no.  From the look on Oliver’s face he wasn’t feeling any more… _directed_ than she was.  This wasn’t good.  “You look gorgeous.”

Okay, not that Felicity was complaining, but…she laughed.  A smile spread across her face as she whispered, “You already said that.” 

“It bared repeating,” Oliver murmured with a shrug and…this should feel awkward, but it didn’t.  So, that was something at least.  If they were going to have an awkward non-conversation it was good that it felt…not awkward. 

Wow, that was a lot of thoughts that made no sense what-so-ever.

They really needed to move on from compliments and gazing.  And it looked like Felicity wasn’t getting off the hook for this one.  Swallowing, she tried prompting, “The other night, you said that we needed to talk?  As in have a sober talk…before we…?”

Had a really awesome make-out session that perhaps ended in _bed_?  Cause Felicity was all for jumping to the end part.  Or…she should just end their misery now and jump him.

Anxiety flared in Oliver’s eyes. (Yup, terrible at the mind reading thing). “Oh…right…I did…”

Oh God, if Oliver didn’t know what to say, they were in trouble.  Jumping him was sounding better and better.  Felicity suppressed a groan and, instead, tried, “You must have had _something_ in mind when you said that.”

Oliver’s eyes widened even more and Felicity could see a flare of panic.  “No…I… _maybe_ …”  He stopped (thank God) and blew out a breath.  He was clearly not happy with his inability to take control of this situation.   Felicity wanted to help, but…she had nothin’.

Finally, Oliver said with more surety, “ _Felicity_ ,” and he held out a palm.  

Gratefully, Felicity placed her hand in his and Oliver smiled, looking relieved (that made two of them), and began, “What, I _think_ I meant was that I want…I wanted… _want_ to make sure that there isn’t anything left between us.  That there are no more questions or...” He grunted in frustration.   “I wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Felicity watched Oliver swallow, gathering his courage.  Her big strong Green Arrow.  Terrified of defining their relationship.  Of being rejected.  It just made her love him more.

But it didn’t stop Felicity from asking, softly and only half-teasing, “Well, what page are you on?”

That had Oliver taking an even shaker breath and Felicity almost felt bad.  I was a loaded question.  And she was making him take the risk by defining it first.

“Felicity, I love you.”

Wow.  _Okay_.

Her heart, maybe, skipped a beat. 

Felicity knew that he loved her. Of course, she _knew_.  But Oliver had said it so rarely since…well, since she’d broken up with him.  It made sense that he hadn’t been throwing the words around willy nilly.  She just wasn’t expecting it as his opening play. 

Nor was she expecting Oliver to continue, saying, “Let me clarify that.  So, I’m absolutely clear.  I’m _in_ love with you.”

And Oliver eyes were so intense, so serious, that it brought tears to hers.  Felicity shifted her hand to entwine their fingers and squeezed. 

It seemed to encourage him and, taking a breath, Oliver continued, “I’ve been in love with you for _so long_ …I don’t even know when it started, but I know it never stopped and I…I want to be _with you_.  I want to try and do it right this time.  I want it to last for…” His eyes fell closed and he squeezed them shut for a moment. “I understand if you’re not all the way there with me, yet, but I need to know that we’re at least on the same page with the destination—”

“We’re on the same page,” Felicity interrupted, because yes, yes, _yes_.  To all of it.  “All the way there.  _No reservations_.  Destination, journey, _everything_.”  Because if Oliver was laying it all out there, it seemed only fair that she did the same.

And Felicity was glad she did, because all the tension bled out of Oliver in one great whoosh, leaving his shoulders sagging and a large smile spreading across his face.  The big beautiful one with the dimples.  “Okay.  Good.  That’s good.”

Good.  Okay. 

It was time for Oliver to kiss her now.

And…

Felicity really didn’t understand why he wasn’t.

But Oliver didn’t seem in any hurry.  Actually, sitting there, holding hands, he was staring at Felicity as if this was all he wanted to do with his life.  Which was rather sweet, but…

“Is there…something else you wanted to talk about?” Felicity asked, just to make sure.

Oliver shook his head, “Nope.  I’m good.”

Felicity almost laughed.  Wow, the love-sick look in Oliver’s eyes was _something_.  Even with everything they had been through, it was sometimes hard to believe it was directed at her. 

“But…” Oliver started again, seeming to finally sense that _Felicity_ was waiting for something more.  “I mean, if _you_ have any questions…any lingering concerns about the breakup or getting back together…I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Wow…okay, wow.  Just when Felicity thought he couldn’t say anything more… _right_.  It was almost weird, seeing Oliver so open and honest.  She didn’t know what to say.

“I…I think…” Because it seemed like Felicity was going to have to say _something_.  Though, she _could_ just kiss him.  There was an idea.  She liked that one, actually.  “Honestly, I’m feeling pretty…resolved.  Between being stuck in the Bunker and the ARGUS Med Bay and even the other night…I feel like we got all the important _stuff_ …out.  Unless you…?”

“No.  Nope.  I totally agree.”  Oliver’s eyes were wide and happy and open as he nodded. 

“So…” Breathe, Smoak.  “…we’re on the same page…” Why was Felicity repeating herself?

“The same page,” Oliver agreed and, at least, he seemed to have the same articulation problem Felicity did, but then again with the _dimples_ …okay, that was her excuse.  How was she supposed to think with the _dimples_?  “So, we’re doing this then?  One step at a time…”

And… _that_ just left Felicity feeling frustrated.  “Maybe, I _do_ have a question,” she blurted out.

Oliver’s face became more serious (and, maybe, a little nervous) but just as open.  He nodded, encouraging her.

Okay, then.   “So, what _are_ these steps everyone talks about?” The question burst out of Felicity in a rush and it was a relief, because it had been driving her crazy!   

Huffing out an amused breath, Oliver looked as relieved as she felt and that made her feel even better, so…

Frak, it then.  Felicity opened her mouth and a veritable gust of words came out, “It’s just that I’m kind of feeling lost as to where we’re supposed to start.  I don’t think I’ve ever began any of my relationships…I dunno, _traditionally_?  I mean, _we_ were friends and partners, then we were in love and when we finally slept together it was in the full understanding that the next day you would probably be lost to me forever, but then, suddenly, you weren’t, and then we were running away together…”

Wow.  All those words she couldn’t find earlier?  Felicity seemed to have found them.

“We didn’t really take the normal steps,” Oliver finally reiterated, softly and gently.  He really seemed to be thinking about everything Felicity had said. “Do you think that was part of the reason things fell apart?”

She hadn’t considered that, but…who knew?  “I have no idea.  I don’t know if it would have helped if we’d gone slower.  Do you think we would have… _communicated_ better if we…?”  Felicity trailed off, not even knowing what she was supposed to say?  What would they have done differently?

Oliver shook his head, looking as unsure as Felicity felt.  “Maybe?  But, I…nothing about our trip…or Ivytown felt rushed to me.  It’s impossible for me to regret any of that, but I’m not the best frame of reference.”

Felicity had to laugh at that, “And _I_ am?”  Oliver couldn’t think that she was.  “All my relationships…Ray, Cooper, they all just _happened_.  No traditional dating.  Friends to sex…then, somehow…poof: relationship.”  Wow, it didn’t really sound good put like that?  No wonder all her relationships failed.

Thankfully, Oliver wasn’t looking at her like Felicity was a screw up.  But he was biased and, also, as he said, not the best frame of reference.

“But this whole ‘steps’ thing seems…” Silly?  Weird?  “ _Foreign_.”  That was a good word.  Foreign.

But just when Felicity was feeling just a tiny bit good about putting this into words, Oliver asked, “What about Billy?”

Whoa!  Where did that come from?  Oliver must be feeling more secure if he was willing to bring up Billy.   Or really _in_ secure.

Swallowing, Felicity managed to ask, “What _about_ Billy?”  She really didn’t know.  They question threw her.

Oliver shrugged, but he was tense again, looking like he wanted Felicity to think this was a no-big-deal question, when it was a really- _insanely_ -big-deal question.  “I meant…did you two take the…normal steps?”

His muscles were coiled tight by the time his question was out and Felicity could see that jealousy tic Oliver got in his jaw.   

“Billy…well…” Felicity tried to think of something reassuring to say (because tonight was supposed to be about new beginning _not_ past relationships), but when she thought about it… “ _Huh_.  I guess, we did go about things more traditionally.  We started with coffee, then lunch, then dinner…” She really couldn’t see how any further details were going to help. “But that seemed more natural than this.”

Great, _that_ sounded awful.  Felicity rushed to add, “I mean, it made _sense_ to go at that pace, because we didn’t know each other.   _At all_.  So, the ‘getting to know you’ steps were logical.  But we…you and me…we _already_ know each other.  Does that make any sense at all?”

Oliver nodded, slowly.  The tic eased a bit and he was… _listening_.  It caused Felicity’s belly butterflies to go nuts.  There was something…intoxicating, maybe…about being the _total focus_ of Oliver Queen’s attention.

Felicity swallowed and tried to put into words the thoughts that were racing through her head as connections… _connected_.  “Then, once Billy and I had gotten to know each other a little.” ‘A little,’ because compared to her and Oliver it still felt shallow and surface- _y_.  “It was about seeing if we were _going_ to fall in love…which, of course, was never gonna happen since I was still in love with _you_ and…”  

Okay…was that a good thing to say?  It felt disrespectful to Billy’s memory, but it made Oliver’s tic go away completely and replaced it with a borderline worshipful look. 

Wow, all right.  Felicity still wasn’t sure if this was fair to Billy, but the look in Oliver’s eyes…she could easily get addicted to it.

Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak’s drug of choice.

Felicity took a deep breath, she needed to keep them on something resembling a track.  Because she really wanted to get where they not want it to lead.  “The _point_ is, we’ve accomplished all those goals.  We know each other.  We’re _already_ in love.  We’re leaps and bounds ahead of where Billy and I were after six months of dating, so rewinding just seems… _weird_.  Wrong, almost.” 

Was ‘wrong’ too strong a word?

“Dishonest,” Oliver added with a small smile and Felicity was so relieved.  He got it.  She shouldn’t have doubted it.  No one had ever _gotten her_ like Oliver did.

“Yeah,” Felicity agreed with a sigh.  It felt like going backwards, like they were following a poorly written script.

Oliver squeezed her hand, drawing her attention back to his eyes, “You know that you had every right to try to move on Billy, right?”

Felicity opened and closed her mouth, feeling a little like she might cry.  Those words meant a lot to her, not the least of which, because she knew it was so hard for Oliver to say them.

“I…” Facility tried to say she did.  To nod at the very least.  Instead, she asked, “What about Susan Williams?”

Why she even brought the dreaded woman’s name up, Felicity had no idea.  The transition barely made sense, but…

God, the woman reminded Felicity of Isabel Rochev and she knew she had no right to hate her the way she did, but…just like Isabel, Felicity really didn’t understand the attraction.  Well, except the _attractiveness_.  As in the _physical_ attractiveness.  But that was _it_.  Nothing else.  Oliver had absolutely _nothing_ in common with that woman.

Why did it feel insulting that the man she loved was drawn to woman like that?  Sara, she got?  Laurel, sure…but Susan Williams?

“What about her?” Oliver asked, sounding genuinely confused.  But, then again, Felicity didn’t know what she was asking either.

“You two seemed to be taking things one step at a time.”  It wasn’t what she _really_ wanted to know, but at least it, _sort of,_ made sense with the conversation they were having.  And if there was a jealous edge to her voice, Felicity was going to ignore it.

Oliver’s lip quirked up and he gave a self-deprecating laugh.  “That was less us taking it one step at a time, as me dragging my feet.”

And if Oliver thought that would make Felicity feel better…well, _it did._

“Felicity...” Oliver reached out and took her other hand as well.  “I only…”  He took a breath.  “I only let things progress with Susan _after_ I had given up all hope of there ever being an _us_ again.   And I, still…looking back, it feels like it was the wrong thing to do.  But if I tell you any of the reasons why, I’m just going to sound like a hypocrite, so…I think I’m just going to keep my mouth shut.”

That made Felicity laugh out loud.  It was actually… _delightful_.  And, suddenly, she didn’t care why Oliver chose the dragon lady (Thea’s name, not hers), because she just wasn’t important.  Oliver never chose her over Felicity, he was just…lonely and Susan was _there_.

But she wasn’t there anymore.  And Felicity was and…looking in Oliver’s eyes now, she _knew,_ with absolute certainty _,_ he wouldn’t want it any other way.  And neither would she.

When her laughter finally faded, Oliver asked, the happy smile back on his face, “So what step feels _honest_ to you?  _Right_?”

Making love right now?  Right here?  _That_ sounded pretty honest. 

“I think…”  Okay, serious answer time. (Though, there was a voice in the back of Felicity’s head telling her she was pretty serious about making love right now, right here).  “Maybe the _middle_ part?”  Did that make sense?  “The part between the awkward dating that feels so….”

Felicity was struggling to find the right word when Oliver supplied, “Awkward?”

She laughed.  Oliver was playing with her fingers and that was feeling anything, _but_ awkward.  “Yeah, but, maybe, not jump to…”  Felicity trailed off, she was having trouble coming up with anything that would feel like too much, right then.

“Running off to Vegas to get married?” Oliver offered with a playful grin.  He was clearly enjoying this finishing her sentences thing.  Now that she thought about it, she’d really missed that too.

“My mother would _love_ that,” Felicity chuckled.

“ _I_ would love that.”  Oliver’s tone was just as light as hers.  It was even a tad self-deprecating, but…

Well, Felicity _still_ stopped breathing.  And she had to ask, “Are you _serious_?”  And the scariest part…how _not_ scary the idea was.

Oliver’s expression immediately became sober.  “No.”  He scrunched up his face and shook his head.  “ _Yes_ …I mean, I _know_ that’s not what’s best for us in the long run.  And Felicity, I’m _all_ about the long run.”

Felicity had forgotten or, maybe, she just hadn’t let herself think about…how goddamn _perfect_ Oliver could be sometimes. 

Smiling so hard she could feel the muscles in her face straining, Felicity took a deep breath and said, “So, maybe, we put aside the _elopement_ …” Because it wasn’t _off_ the table.  At some _future_ point.  “And, say…plan a trip to the Pacific Crest Trail in the next couple weeks?”

Oliver beamed.  “You would _really_ do that for me?”

She shrugged.  If Oliver kept looking at her like that, kept saying such wonderful things, there wasn’t a lot Felicity _wouldn’t_ do for him.  “If you promise to buy me the right socks.”  Besides, being anywhere completely alone with him, sounded like heaven.

“Honey, I’ll buy you the best socks money can buy. Dozens of them,” Oliver pledged and it was the first time he had called her ‘honey’ since the break-up that he didn’t stop half-way through or wince after he’d said it.

“Deal.” 

“But…” He let go of her hand to reach out and stroke Felicity’s cheek.  “We don’t have to go camping.  We should go somewhere we _both_ like.”  Oliver bit his lip and tipped his head down, doing that damn looking at her through his eyelashes thing again.  “Somewhere with a big soft bed.”

Those last words were barely a whisper, but, _God_ , they made Felicity squirm.  She felt the words like a physical touch.  _Finally_.  Beds.  They should talk _more_ about the beds. 

“Like Bali?” Felicity suggested, because she swore, they had the _best_ beds.

Oliver’s smile only grew.  “Bali’s perfect.”

_He_ was perfect.  Just thinking about it made Felicity’s chest tight in the best possible way.  “We don’t have to pick.  We can go to the Pacific Crest Trail in a few weeks, then plan a trip to Bali in a few months.  After the city is all cleaned up from our latest big bad, _Mr. Mayor_.”  She hadn’t planned to say the last all husky and suggestive, but she was glad that she did when she saw Oliver shudder.

It gave Felicity the courage to add, “And, _Oliver_ , there’s a nice soft bed right upstairs.”

This time, Felicity was pretty sure that it was Oliver who stopped breathing.

“Are you _sure_?” Oliver asked, but his eyes were pleading with Felicity.  It was obvious the answer he wanted.  “It’s not too fast?”

He really was ridiculous sometimes.  Also, Felicity was so very tired of sleeping without him.  “Oliver, I’m pretty sure that the _middle_ of the relationship involves sleepovers at the very l—”

“ _Christ_ , Felicity!”

Then Oliver’s lips were on hers. 

And it was about _fricken_ time! 

Also, had Felicity mentioned that she _loved_ how quickly Oliver could move?  Frak, it was a turn on.

She let out a little moan of, ‘God, yes,’ as Oliver’s hands enveloped her face.  They were gentle.  So gentle.  Felicity could easily pull away if she wanted to.  Why _the hell_ would she want to?

The kiss was soft, shallow, savoring.  A perfect beginning.

Finally.

This was what tonight was supposed to be.  _This_.

After several long moments, Oliver pulled back, just far enough for his eyes to blink open and look into hers.  Then they darted over Felicity’s face, as if to make sure this was okay, to make sure this was _real_.

But, maybe, Felicity was just projecting that last part. 

She smiled in encouragement, her tongue chasing his taste, lingering on her lower lip.  And Oliver smiled, his eyes following the path of Felicity’s tongue and then…

They met in the middle.

It was a beautiful metaphor.  Even if they didn’t have very far to move.

Kissing Oliver was…unlike _anything_.  They moved together seamlessly.  Instinctively.  It really had ruined Felicity for anyone else, because nothing else could possibly be so flawless.  No one else would ever match her so effortlessly.  With lips and tongues and complete synchrony.

Oliver made Felicity feel adored and that made her desperate for him to feel the same.  It made her want to _worship_ him, because she _felt_ worshipped.

When Oliver tipped his head to the side, angling his lips so that he could deepen the kiss, Felicity was right there with him.  In fact, she couldn’t say that she wasn’t the one who initiated it.  But, then, their lips were wide open, yet perfectly sealed, and their tongues stroked one another’s and, _God_ , it felt so good.

Felicity had missed this.  Missed it more than she had let herself contemplate.  She curled her hand around his neck and the feel of his stubble...no, it wasn’t stubble any more.  Oliver had a beard now.  It was short, but longer than it had been and softer, yet still so familiar. 

And, suddenly, Felicity wasn’t close enough.  Not nearly close enough.

Their lips didn’t have a fraction of a breath between them, their mouths were as close as they could physically get, but sitting next to him on the couch, even twisted toward each other as they were…it didn’t allow for the kind of contact that Felicity wanted.  _Craved_.  Also, as she slipped her hand into the collar of his shirt, it became abundantly clear that Oliver was wearing _way_ too many clothes.

It was absurd how many layers of formal wear men had, especially given woman wore so little. Felicity had plenty of skin showing, yet Oliver’s hands stayed respectfully above her neck and, even though she loved that gentle stroke of his thumb, she wished he would be less respectful and more...just _more_.

Turning her body more fully toward him, Felicity pulled her leg onto the couch and got up on her knees, trying to press closer.  And _still_ not close enough.  A little frustrated whimper escaped and…oh, frak it all.

Felicity swung her leg over Oliver’s and, not pausing to let either of them think about it (not that she _needed_ to think about it), she settled onto his lap.  She was pretty sure that she could have done it without losing contact with his lips, but he pulled away with a soft groan.

“Fuck, Felicity,” and the way Oliver gasped it, Felicity got the feeling that the words didn’t emerge voluntarily, and that, kinda, made her already damp places…damp _er_.

Smiling down at him, she settled her body against his, _melting_ into him.  Felicity was feeling rather delirious and it was amazing.  This was why the idea of a first date was ridiculous, because not first date ever felt this…familiar…comfortable…so perfectly _right_.  Even their first time which had been beautiful and exciting and explosive, even that didn’t feel…

This felt like something that was missing for months was finally where it belonged, like…finally being home after so long.

But still it was as beautiful and exciting and explosive as the first time. 

 “Felicity?” Oliver panted and he just looked… _delicious_.  All disheveled.  Blue eyes glassy and heavy lidded.  Slumped and panting.  His hair all mussed. 

Simply _delicious_.

Yet, Oliver was still looking for reassurance.  Didn’t he feel how…natural this all felt?   How effortlessly, honestly pure?  Maybe, he did, but his old confidence wasn’t there yet and his eyes were asking…no begging for permission.  His hands fell to her knees, but his arms were tense and…as desperate as he looked he wouldn’t move them until she gave the okay.

It was heartbreaking and so sweet and…

“Just _go with it_ , Oliver,” Felicity murmured, leaning forward and nipping at his lips, hoping that would cover a whole range of permissions. _All_ the permission.  Given with love.

Groaning, Oliver plunged back into the kiss as if he needed it to breathe, his hands finally slipping under the skirt of her dress as their heads tilted and tongues tangled, sucking…

Felicity pressed closer.  Until her breasts were smooshed against the fine cut of Oliver’s suit jacket…yeah, that _had_ to go.

Slipping her hands inside, Felicity pushed the offending garment off his shoulders.  Oliver groaned, but leaned forward oh-so-helpfully and let his hands drop from her body just long enough for her to pull the jacket free.   

All Felicity was able to accomplish was to push the jacket behind him, before Oliver pulled her back ( _finally_ ), his arm banding around her waist as they sank back into the kiss, quickly regaining any ground they had lost during the maneuvering.

His hand made its way back under her skirt and slid up her thigh, slowly, but with confidence this time and Felicity shuddered and hummed her encouragement against his lips.  But as Oliver’s large calloused hand settled on her satin clad ass (should she have gone with the thong after all?), his lips fell from hers and he gasped, “Is this okay?”

Frak.  Really?  Felicity rolled her eyes, before she could tell herself not to.  “Tell you what?  If you go too far, I’ll use our safe word.”

Oliver’s face stretched into a delighted grin.  They had often joked about safe words, though they had never done anything _remotely_ kinky enough to need one.

Felicity reached for his lips with hers, but Oliver stopped her with a laugh.  “I don’t remember what our safe word is.”

“Me neither.”

And Felicity dove back in, not letting him pull away this time.  Because it _really_ didn’t matter.  There was nothing Oliver was going to do tonight that she wasn’t _100%_ on board with.

And, this time, Oliver didn’t pull back.  As a matter of fact, he did the opposite and _growled_ …which, lord, she looooved.  It was just so… _Oliver_ that she could barely stand it.  Plus, Felicity’s tongue was already in his mouth so the sound reverberated through her in the most amazing and _familiar_ way.

This time, both of his hands quickly found her ass and squeezed, kneading the muscles.  It wasn’t hard, but it was enough that she wondered if Oliver could feel how drenched she was becoming.  If he would just take a few more liberties and slip those little pinky fingers under the hem of her panties…the mystery would be solved.

But Oliver was taking it _slow_.  So fraking slow. 

But that was fine.  It was awesome, really.  After all this time, Felicity could be patient and enjoy the slow build…

Crap.  No, she couldn’t.  It had been forever and Felicity was dyyyying here.

Oliver’s hands were magic.  And also torture.  The drag and pull as he molded her ass, encouraging the gentle rolling rhythm of her hips as they started moving out of pure instinct.  Not that she had any desire to stop it.  _She_ had no vested interest in a slow build.  Felicity had had enough anticipation to last a lifetime.

When Oliver’s hips started to follow hers, Felicity remembered what heaven felt like.

They weren’t on a full-on grind ( _yet_ ), but any second now.  And Oliver loose dress pants…they were doing absolutely nothing to hide how much he was enjoying himself.  But when his lips fell away again, Felicity braced herself for more second guessing.

Then Oliver’s mouth attacked the line of her neck and Felicity let her head fall back with a relieved sigh.  And, maybe, also, a very different kind of sigh.

“God, I love you,” Oliver murmured against Felicity’s skin as he dragged his lips down the column of her throat to her cleavage and—

Felicity’s phone went off.

Her goddamn, _fraking_ phone.

And what was worse, Felicity would know that ring-tone anywhere.  God _damn it_ , Curtis!

She was so ignoring him.  So, so ignoring him.

But it was damn distracting and after a second, Oliver whispered between the kisses he was pressing along her collarbone, “Felicity, Honey?”

Frak.  If Curtis got Mr. Worry-Wort going again, Felicity was _never_ going to forgive him.

“It’s just Curtis.  He’ll leave a message,” Felicity panted, hoping beyond hope that that would be the end of it.

“Wasn’t he going to Dinah’s?  Did she ever tell you why she didn’t make it?”

Guess not.

_Double frak_.

Felicity groaned.  It was times like these, when being part of a vigilante crime-fighting team just _sucked_. 

Very deliberately, Felicity leaned over Oliver to get the phone on the table behind the couch, which caused her to push her (albeit modest) cleavage right into his face, making him groan. 

He _totally_ deserved it.  That’s what Oliver got for telling Felicity that she had to pick up the damn phone (even if he only implied it).  Just when things were getting really good, too

“Hello.”  It took a lot of effort to not sound as irritated as she felt.

“ _Hey, girl, is he still there_?” Curtis immediately sang, innuendo dripping from his voice.

Goddamn, _fraking_ Curtis.

Wrinkling her nose, Felicity pulled back enough to frown down at Oliver.  She wanted him to see her displeasure.  She _knew_ she shouldn’t have answered the damn phone.  “If you thought Oliver was still here, why would you call me?”

Oliver smiled, so _very_ cowed by her annoyed face.  When had that stopped working?  He leaned into her, his hands running up and down Felicity’s back in long, soothing strokes.

They weren’t soothing enough to deal with her now _ex_ -best friend.

“ _I figured if there was anything hot and heavy going on, you wouldn’t pick up_.”

Of _course_ , he did.

Shooting Oliver another hard glare, Felicity mouthed, “I told you so,” which wasn’t completely true, but he looked far too amused for her taste.  Shouldn’t he be annoyed at the interruption too?

But Oliver looked like he was too happy to be annoyed by anything and it was really hard for Felicity irritated with him when he looked at her like that. 

Oliver motioned for her to lean closer so he could hear as well and Felicity was going just about to when Curtis said, “ _I was actually hoping that you wouldn’t answer and that you and Mayor Hottie were getting your_ sizzle _on_.”

Okay, no.  This was embarrassing enough without Oliver listening into Curtis’ adolescent rambles. 

Felicity let herself fall off Oliver’s lap (did she mention Curtis was now her _ex_ -best friend) and onto the couch, away from prying ears.  This was so not what she wanted to be doing right now. 

And Curtis kept talking.  And talking.  And _talking_.

Felicity really needed better friends.

Oliver gave her a sympathetic look before mouthing that he was going to run upstairs to the restroom and Felicity should wrap up quickly (ya think?).  But he used hand motions and it was kind of adorable, so she figured she’d forgive him.  Also, he dropped a kiss on her shoulder and he didn’t seem to be leaving the Loft any time soon, both of which were good things.  Very, _very_ good things. 

Felicity nodded as she watched Oliver stand and make his way to the stairs.  Those dress pants did incredible things for his ass.  An ass she had every intention of getting her hands on.

_Soon_.

All Felicity had to do was get rid of Curtis.

Unfurling herself from the couch, Felicity kept her hands busy, gathering up dishes from the party and praying her short, sarcastic answers would…who was she kidding?  Curtis was being way too obtuse tonight to pick up anything. 

But he had gotten to Dinah’s by that point and, _hopefully_ , as soon as she made an appearance, Felicity could get back to working on that sexual tension that Curtis kept going on and on and _on_ …

Except, frak!

_Please_ , don’t tell her there was a more nefarious reason for Dinah not showing up at the party than work running late. 

Please.  Please, God.  _Please_. 

For _once_ , couldn’t Felicity and Oliver have a single night to—?

“ _Oh no_!”

Okay, that was not a good ‘oh no.’  Not that ‘oh no’ was ever good… 

“Oh no, _what_!?” 

This is what the big idiot got for going in without back up.  She should have insisted he wait.  Dammit.  He probably already had a concussion.  If he got hurt…

All ready feeling guilty for any mean thoughts she had about her friend, Felicity started to walk toward the stairs to get Oliver.  So much for their romantic evening.   

Then the line went dead.

_Fuck_ her life!

“Curtis… _Curtis_!”

Frak, frak, frak!

Oh God.   _Please_ , let him be okay.  And Dinah too.  This was so, _so_ not good.

Letting the arm holding the phone fall to her side, Felicity screamed, “ _Oliver_!!”

He was at the balcony of the upper level in instant, because, _of course_ , he was.  “Felicity?” Oliver looked ready to leap over the railing, which, really, was overkill, but she couldn’t say it wasn’t reassuring.

“We need to go!” Pushing down the fear building in her belly, Felicity grabbed her keys and her bag.  “Curtis and Dinah are in trouble.”

Oliver was downstairs and next to her by the time Felicity got the door open.  She really hoped that he hadn’t leapt off the balcony.  His knee didn’t need the unnecessary stress.

“What’s going on?”

Shaking her head, because, really, she didn’t know, Felicity told Oliver what little she _did_ know as they stepped into the hall and she began to lock the door behind them. 

“…then the line went dead and…” 

Wonderful, now Felicity’s voice had a hysterical edge.  Poor Curtis.  They never should have let him go out alone with that head injury.  They should have sent Digg with him when they didn’t hear from Dinah....

Thank _God_ for Oliver’s instincts, because who knew what would have happened if Felicity hadn’t answered the phone, but…

Why couldn’t things _ever_ go right for them?  Just for _one_ night?  This was why they didn’t take baby steps.  With their lives, they didn’t have _time_ for baby steps!

Oliver started to walk ahead.  “I’ll get over—”

Felicity reached out and seized his arm, “ _No_!”  The last thing they needed was Oliver running off half-cocked and disappearing as well.   “Curtis went in without back up and look what happened.  We’re going to call John, then you’re going to drop me off at the Bunker and get the comms and weapons and—”

Oliver cut her off with a hard kiss, then grabbed her hand.  “Fine.  Let’s go.”

He was already pulling her down the hallway, before Felicity could even process how quickly Oliver had, _actually_ , listened to her.  She hadn’t even had to argue.  Wow.  Okay then.

But, unfortunately, they didn’t have time for… _anything_.  Their friends were in trouble.  Felicity lifted her phone again.  It was ringing before she got it to her ear, prayers for her friend’s safety humming in the back of her mind.

“John…”

 

 

_revised 1/2/2018_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> When I was writing this chapter, specifically about Felicity’s drunken fantasy of how she _wanted_ to celebrate Oliver’s birthday, it occurred to me that I really wanted to write _that_.  So I did (even though I still have way too much on my writing plate) and I’m really glad I did because I really love it and hope you do too. 
> 
> _Best Birthday Ever_ is now up.  The first part is a pretty complete one-shot, but Oliver really needed to have his say.  It _is_ his birthday.  It isn’t written as a fantasy, but as an alternate timeline/what if to this chapter.
> 
> Unfortunately, this chapter was a whole lot harder to write.  It’s still far from my favorite chapter, I’m happier with this latest version (new edits as of 1/1/2018).  On reread Felicity just wasn’t coming out right.  Hopefully, her kindness and compassion is more evident now.
> 
> _(Don’t) Let Me Go: Chapter 5_ are missing moments from 5x23.  So, slightly more angsty.  ;-)
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you, to my fabulous betas **Fairytalehearts** , **Imusuallyobsessed** , and **Ireland1733**.  And my endless gratitude to all of you who take a minute (or more) to leave a kudo or comments.  It makes me so happy to spread the feels around.  
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/ or Twitter, also **Emmilynestill**.  I would love to chat!
> 
> Happy Reading,
> 
> Emmy


	5. (Too) Many Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during _Arrow 5x23: Lian Yu_.  I tried to skip to the end, to limit the extraneous, non-Olicity stuff, but it didn’t feel right.  Now, this chapter encompasses most of the episode.
> 
> This chapter is also the first introduction to my William.  I think you will find his characterization different from most (if not all) of the fanfiction written on him.  It was also written and conceived _before_ Season 6 William was a thing, so he really isn’t consistent with that William either.
> 
> I have a lot of experience with kids this age and it was very important to me to write a very realistic, and _complicated_ , reaction of a ten-year-old boy who had been through hell and back.
> 
> I chose ten for William before Stephen Amell came out saying he was twelve, thinking that I was actually aging him _up_ , given the child shown in season 4 acted more like a six or seven-year-old.  For the purposes of this story, William was born in November 2006.
> 
> Also, a reminder that this AU about half way through.  Slade, in particular, goes in a different direction than he does in season 6.
> 
> And my very last quick note, as will all my Arrow fics, in this universe, all DC characters are real life and all Marvel characters exist as they do for us in comics/tv/movies/pop culture.

 

 

When was Oliver going to learn to trust his fucking instincts?

They had kept him alive for _ten years_ and, _still_ , Oliver let Chase rattle him enough that he was over-thinking and under-thinking and…just allowing the evil bastard _fuck_ with his mind.

Oliver should have trusted himself when his gut had said that Chase had gone after William while he and Felicity were trapped in the Bunker.  He should have devoted _all_ of his energy to finding his son _then_. 

He should have trusted himself when he thought…no, _knew_ that capturing Chase was too easy.  Oliver should have kept his guard up.

And, when, every part of him screamed to keep Felicity _next_ to him, _in_ the bunker, in _constant_ contact over the comms, Oliver should have listened.

Instead, Oliver had gone with that stupid-ass plan to do the _opposite_ of what his instincts told him to do.  Thinking it would actually trick Adrian.  That it wasn’t playing right into his hands. 

It was even stupider than his Bratva plan. 

All Oliver could hope for now was that this latest strategy to assemble his own dirty dozen (or half-dozen) wasn’t his worst mistake yet.

Oliver could almost hear Felicity shrieking in his ear, protesting as he did it.  He knew what she would say he should do.  She’d tell him to call Lyla.  And Oliver considered it, he did, but…with John involved, Lyla would take over.  _ARGUS_ would take over. 

Then Oliver would have zero control over the mission and with William involved…this was just too delicate an operation to trigger that particular nuke yet.

But that didn’t mean that Oliver didn’t leave a message for Lyla.  Just in case.  The nuke might still be necessary, but Oliver needed to see if his surgical strike would work first.

At least, that was what his _instincts_ told him to do.  And this time, Oliver was listening.

He’d tried to contact Barry.  And Cisco…the whole fucking team.  No one was picking up.  Only Felicity could find Roy and Oliver had no clue how to reach Sara.  The team he had with him now wasn’t his first choice.  Hell, it wasn’t even his _third_ , but…the stakes had never been higher and he _knew_ couldn’t do this alone. 

That being said, strangely enough, the ridiculous team of anti-heroes he _was_ able to drudge up didn’t _feel_ like a bad idea.  And that might be the only thing that kept Oliver going.

Nyssa, despite her annoying tendency to bring up their farce of a marriage (which was _not_ legal. Oliver and Felicity had researched this extensively) and her ability to enrage Malcolm (which was often a plus), was beyond trustworthy.  Oliver had zero qualms about her.  Nyssa’s word was unbreakable.  She said she would help.  She would help.

And as much as Oliver hated working with Malcolm Merlyn… _again_ , he knew that man would do anything for Thea.  He had his own strange honor that Oliver felt he understood.  So, for the time being, he had confidence in their (temporary) alliance.

It was when Oliver had the insane idea to enlist the help of Slade Wilson that he realized he was probably losing his mind.

But more than insane, Oliver was desperate.  Every single person he had left on this planet was under the control of a psychopath, a _brilliant_ psychopath who had out-thought him _every_ step of the way _._ And he had his people…his _family_ on Oliver’s person hell of an island. 

William, Felicity, Thea… _everyone_.

When Oliver put that into consideration, having a mass murder with an intimate knowledge of this very same island on _Oliver’s side_ …suddenly, it didn’t seem so crazy.   Really, was there anyone out there who could better understand the unhinged malevolence that was Adrian Chase’s mind than Slade Wilson?

As long as Slade _stayed_ on Oliver’s side. 

That was the catch.  The gamble.

Slade’s greatest asset was his ability to think and act like a psychopath, but Oliver was banking on there being some humanity left, that after the Mirakuru cure and years of contemplating his sins, that there was _something_ left of the man Oliver once knew.

And if there was one thing that could motivate a man to show some character, some _decency_ , it was their child.  Look at Merlyn.  Hell, look at Oliver.  

So, Oliver found the old Deathstroke gear, along with an RPG, and every other _damn_ thing he could think of and headed back to Purgatory, praying that it wasn’t going to turn into a one-way trip into hell.

_Everyone_ Oliver cared about.

Every _single_ person that Oliver never wanted to step foot on that God-awful place.  Imprisoned on Lian Yu.

Yet, Felicity had been there before.  As had Thea.  And John.  It just showed how good Oliver was at keeping his loved ones’ safe.

Though, Oliver was glad that they…Felicity, Thea, John…at least had _some_ familiarity with the lay of the land, knew to look out for the landmines. 

And if Chase thought that Lian Yu was going to fluster Oliver, he was way off.

If anything, it felt like a home court advantage.  Oliver knew this island like the back of his hand, and while a few years ago the island itself may have triggered flashbacks and panic, that was one thing Oliver had tackled and conquered. 

With Felicity.  On Bali.

Why else would they choose to vacation on an island so similar to Lian Yu?  The climate, the vegetation and the beaches…it even _smelled_ the same.   It was one of Felicity’s more brilliant plans, desensitize Oliver to the ocean and the beach by replacing bad memories with good ones.

Enough time with Felicity on a secluded beach on the Indian Ocean and the predominant memories triggered by sand and surf, by the roar of the wind and the smell of the ocean…they were all good ones now.  It just reminded him of everything that he was fighting for.

In this one thing, Oliver was one step ahead of Chase. 

Because of Felicity.  

With her, even his memories of Lian Yu were pleasant.  Laughter and friendship.  Loyalty and love.  Sweaty vine swings and sun-kissed beaches.

Please, _God_ , don’t let that change.

Oliver couldn’t lose Felicity now.  Not after all they had been through, how incredibly far they had come.  They were on the brink of something beautiful…possibly the purest thing that he’d ever known…

Well, except for William.

Felicity and William, the truest, brightest things in Oliver’s life. 

And Chase had them. 

But Oliver would get them back.  He swore to _God,_ he would.  Whatever it took.  That _mad man_ would not win.  He wouldn’t let Chase win.

Oliver had a list.  Of his priorities.

It was horrible and Oliver hated that he had it.  Not a single person here was expendable.  There wasn’t _one_ he was willing to lose.  That he wouldn’t give his life for.

But, _still_...Oliver had his priorities.

William.

Felicity.

Thea.

In that order.  It made Oliver nauseous to think about it that way.  Still, his brain…wouldn’t _stop_ thinking it. 

William, the youngest, the most innocent, the most vulnerable, _had_ to come first.  Oliver didn’t think anyone would disagree.

He could argue that Felicity was the second most innocent and vulnerable.  That way, Oliver didn’t have to define any other reasons, none of which would surprise anyone, but it felt less selfish to think of it in terms of vulnerability. 

Thea was neither innocent nor vulnerable (though her lack of innocence also made Oliver sick) and she certainly wasn’t weak.  But she made it to the number three slot purely because she was his baby sister and he _had_ to protect her.  It had been his job for as long as he could remember, even if he had sucked at it for most of their lives.

But as logical as all those rationalizations were, there was also the reason Chase had pulled those three names out to use against Oliver time and time again.  Because just as Adrian had said, losing _any_ of them would break Oliver in ways he didn’t think he could ever fully recover from.

And losing _all three_ …it was inconceivable.  It wasn’t something…

Oliver didn’t…

He didn’t think he could survive it.  And if he did, there would be _nothing_ left of the Oliver Queen they knew.  Chase was right about that.

So was it any wonder that Oliver found himself standing in front of the man who had murdered his mother, who, _until Chase_ , had been his greatest nemesis, ready to take the biggest gamble of his life to get the three of them back?

William.  Felicity.  Thea.

He would do just about anything for _one_ of them.  He _had_.  But all three…

For all of them, apparently, Oliver was willing to make a deal with the devil himself.

Yet, it didn’t take two minutes of looking into Slade’s eyes and hearing him speak that Oliver didn’t know…didn’t _feel,_ in his _bones,_ that he’d made the right decision.

Because the man in front of him now wasn’t the man who had killed Oliver’s mother.  Not anymore than Thea had murdered Sara or Roy that cop.

_This_ was the man who had taught Oliver to fight, who’d kept him alive for two years on this very same island.  Who stood aside and let Oliver be with the woman _he_ loved, because it was what Shado wanted.  Because he trusted Oliver to never hurt her, to keep her safe.  Because he had thought of Oliver as a brother.

Slade…Shado…they were Oliver’s _original_ Team, before there _was_ a Team Arrow.

And… _God_ , Oliver wanted his friend back.  His _brother_.  He hadn’t realized how much until he was standing there, looking into Slade’s eyes, talking about _their_ sons.    

Oliver couldn’t bring himself to contemplate what he could lose today.  Not with everything that was on the line.  And not _just_ William, Felicity, and Thea.  Though, they were _beyond_ enough.  Oliver wouldn’t be able to function if he really thought about everything that was at stake, if he allowed himself to even consider failure. 

So…his eye stayed on the prize.  But that left Oliver vulnerable to hope.  And that was almost as dangerous.  

Because there was a _lot_ to hope for, almost as much as there was to lose.  If things went _right_ today, Oliver could leave with so much more than he came with.

He could have Slade back.

He could have _William_ back.  In a way he’d never had him before.

Oliver could…he could _possibly_ hold his boy in his arms.

God, he…Oliver had _never_ had a chance to hold his son in his arms.  Not _once_.  It wasn’t something almost nine-year old boys did with their mom’s ‘friends.’

But, today, he might…no, Oliver _would_ see his son again.  And, despite the circumstances, he couldn’t wait.  He knew that if he got the chance to hold William, he would lose his shit and that was so fucking dangerous and…

_Enough_.  He didn’t have time for this.  Right now, Oliver just needed to focus on _finding_ William, getting him to safety.  Then…

Oliver didn’t know if he would ever be able to let him go again.  Didn’t know if he should.  Felicity didn’t think so and she was the smartest person he knew.  Sending William away had done absolutely _no good_.  Everything he had hoped to prevent had come into play anyway.

Oliver wanted William in his life.  Wanted it as much as anything.  As much as he wanted to marry Felicity and start their own family.

Christ, he wanted…he wanted them _all_ to be a family.  But first, Oliver had to find them and William and Felicity had to meet…if things went well today, William and Felicity _would_ meet and…

_Shit_ , he scouldn’t afford to think about this.  When he did, Oliver’s brain skipped the tracts and his throat closed in.

Suffice it to say, Oliver was _very_ motivated to have today go his way. 

Now, _Harkness_ was a completely different story.  Oliver never had a good feeling about him. But he had too many balls in the air, Harkness had barely been a blip on his radar.  There was just too much going on, too many choices, too many calculated risks, too much at stake.  And he wasn’t used to doing things alone anymore, not having someone he really trusted (which he did with _none_ of this current team) weighing in on his choices.   

A lot was different now.  Oliver wasn’t the man who had left this island five years ago.  Not even close.  In a thousand ways that was a good thing, something he was infinitely grateful for, but…

Five years ago, Oliver had had no trouble separating instinct from emotion.  Instinct kept him sharp.  Emotion got a man killed.  And, today, it could get _everyone_ he loved killed. 

Oliver needed to find a way to lock away his emotions, the way he used to, so he could _focus_ , so he could keep his _eye on the prize_.

William.  Felicity.  Thea.  John and the others.

The very reasons he hadn’t been able to keep his emotions buried for long after returning to Starling.  The reasons Oliver had _changed_.  Become a better man.  His emotions, his _love_ , made him better.

But right now, they needed to take a _time out_.

But, unfortunately, they were also willful little assholes.  So, when Felicity called Oliver’s name, his heart just about jump started.  Seeing her alive and whole, even in the horrific cage…the relief had a potential to be dizzying.  The love, the _need_ …incapacitating.   And the rage at seeing her, _all of them_ , locked up like animals…blinding.

Then there was the fear.  The fear Oliver felt when he saw Samantha in the cage mirroring Felicity’s, because that not only meant that William was _definitely_ in Chase’s clutches, it meant he was out there, surrounded by psychopaths, alone.

But Oliver didn’t have time to _feel_ any of those things.  He needed to stay clear-headed.  Focused.  Eye on the prize.

Felicity and Thea were here and without any serious injuries.  Curtis too.  Now, Oliver just needed to get them off of this island and find William.

Then he could find the others and deal with Chase.

Samantha, though…she was a complication, another person to be added to the list, because _she_ had no way to defend herself.  She was as helpless as William.   His team was strong and capable.  They had been through the worst life could throw at them and had come out on top.  They were _far_ from defenseless and no one in their right mind would consider Felicity or Thea helplessness.

But Samantha… _shit_.  Another person on this island to worry about and it was his son’s mother on top of it all.  

Oliver needed all of them _out_ of these cages and _off_ this island.   _Now_.

So he could focus on his boy.

Oliver did a decent enough job keeping in the right mindset when they were ambushed (he was pretty much expecting it, anyway, and glad that he could, at least, be between Talia al Ghul and the people he loved) and Harkness turning allegiance (not even surprised).  Even Slade’s supposed deflection…

Actually, it never really _felt_ like a deflection.  To say that Oliver trusted Slade was an over statement for sure, but this was a dance had they danced before, a script Oliver knew every word to.  Slade wouldn’t have told Evelyn to put a gun to his head, the first move Slade had ever taught him, on accident.  The man was too smart for that. 

And, thank God, Oliver was right.  In this, his gamble paid off.

Then Talia and Harkness were gone and Evelyn captured.  The immediate threat was quelled and the tight control Oliver had on his emotions slipped…

He felt the relief, the gratitude that Slade hadn’t taken the easy way out and…

Oliver’s eyes found Felicity’s and his breath left him in a whoosh.  He needed her out of there.  _Now_.

“Stand back,” he called out, then quickly shot the locks off the four cages in quick succession.  They fell far too easily to Oliver’s arrows.  Clearly, Adrian’s plan didn’t involve it being hard to get them out of their prison.

It also allowed Oliver to start with Samantha, but end with Felicity, and when he got to her…he dropped his bow far too quickly given the threat.  But emotion was clouding his judgment and…he needed to get her out of there, he needed to touch her, to make sure she was okay.  He needed…

“Are you, all right?” Oliver asked it in a whisper, so no one else could hear the sheer _emotion_ in his voice.  God, if Oliver was the man he was five years ago, putting Felicity in there _alone_ would have signed Chase’s death sentence.

Oliver’s hands fumbled with the broken lock.  Hands that had quickly and easily knocked Talia’s arrow away from Samantha, trembled.  It was just proof of how much he needed Felicity gone.  Safe.  She emotionally compromised him.

“Yeah.   Yeah.”  Felicity’s voice was heavy with unshed tears.  With desperation and fear and need.  _She_ had never mastered containing her emotions.  She had never even tried and, God, Oliver hoped she never did.  He wanted her to stay _exactly_ as she was.  “Are _you_ okay?”

Oliver could feel the weight of her eyes flying over him, checking for injuries.  Making him warm.  Making him feel loved and cared for and…that was dangerous too. 

The standard ‘fine’ would probably have been best, but, for some reason, it felt like they had come too far for that.

“Physically,” Oliver finally answered, giving Felicity a raised eyebrow and a half-smile as he released the damn lock and threw it away, rather violently.  He wasn’t sure if tt helped or hurt his bid for control.

But, then, Oliver yanked the door open and saw the blood at Felicity’s temple and the rage that he had barely been keeping at bay flared.

“They knocked you out?” Oliver growled it.  God _damn_ it!

“No.” Felicity looked confused, then her hand flew to her forehead. “Oh.  This is from when Digg and I flipped the car, trying to run over Talia and her minions.  It didn’t take.  _Unfortunately_.”

As they always did, Felicity words calmed him, centered him, enough that Oliver almost laughed.  There was something adorably endearing about a bloodthirsty Felicity.

Oliver reached out to help her out of the cage and Felicity launched herself into his arms, her arms around his neck and…ah… _God_!

Just one second…

Just _one_.  To bury his face in Felicity’s neck and breathe in her scent and hold her close and _feel_ how alive she was.  Oliver could surely spare a _second_.  He had to send her away soon and it was _just_ a second…

“By the way,” Felicity said against Oliver’s ear, still holding him close, “the whole leave and don’t tell you where we were going… _stupid_ plan.  Epically terrible.  _Never_ doing that again.  Next time your instincts say to keep me close, that’s what we’re going to do.”

Oliver couldn’t agree more.  But as much as he wanted to keep her close now…he gave himself one more second to close his eyes and feel Felicity’s heart pound against his chest…things had changed. 

Taking a deep breath, Oliver said, “Well, right now, my instincts are telling me to get you off this fucking island.”

And, unfortunately, they didn’t have time to spare, so Oliver forced himself to pull away.

“You mean we _all_ need to get off this island,” Felicity corrected with her usual fierceness, her jaw tight as she clutched his arms and searched his eyes.  She was rumpled and exhausted and freaked out.  And Oliver _knew_ she was just as afraid of losing him as he was of losing her.

But Oliver couldn’t afford to dwell on that.  The last thing he wanted was to argue with her, but…

“Felicity, I _need_ to find William.”  And as much as he tried, Oliver knew he didn’t succeed in keeping the emotion out of his voice.

Felicity’s breath hissed and she nodded, her face contorting as if in pain.  “ _William_.  I’m _so_ sorry, Oliver.  I should have been able to find him.  I should have—”

“Shhh…” Oliver interrupted because, not _only_ was this _not_ her fault…he couldn’t stand the pain in her voice.  

Though, selfishly, it warmed him as well.  Felicity was going to _love_ William.  Oliver just knew it.  And, before this day was over, she would have the chance.  So help him, God. 

“You did everything you could.  Chase probably…” Oliver took a shaky breath.  “He probably already had William when you started looking.” 

_God_ , how long had his boy been in captivity?   It made Oliver sick to think about it.

“You’ll _find_ him,” Felicity immediately swore, her voice firm and passionate, reminding him for the thousandth time of all the reasons he needed her.  “And William will be _fine_.  He’s strong.  He’s your son, how could he not be?”

 Oliver was going to lose it.

Taking a step back and two deep breaths, Oliver purposely turned his eyes away to survey the others.  Keep his eye on the prize.   “I brought comms.  You and Curtis will have to figure out how to uplink them, but…”

When Oliver looked back at her, Felicity was smiling, looking, _somehow_ , confident and petrified at the same time.  “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

See _this_ was the problem.  No one else could so easily reduce him to tears.  But Oliver’s voice was only a little scratchy when he murmured, “You know I work best with you guiding me.”

“We make a great team.  Always have.”

Incredibly, it was Slade who saved his sanity, calling out, “You have a working lock, kid?  Seeing as how you shot off all the ones we had.”  Slade was shoving Evelyn in one of the recently vacated cages and, strange as it seemed, Oliver really didn’t like seeing _her_ in one of those either.

“Here.”  Malcolm pulled a pair of heavy duty handcuffs from his suit and tossed them to Slade.  “Figured we’d need them since this one,” he gestured to Oliver, “gets itchy about killing people.” 

It wasn’t surprising that Malcolm made it sound like a weakness and, try as Oliver might to keep it from irritating him, it still did.

Felicity, on the other hand, was not even attempting to manage her annoyance.  “So can we talk about this new team—?”

Oliver let out a frustrated grunt.  He didn’t have time for a debate.  “I was desperate,” he hissed, for Felicity’s ears only.  “And Team Flash was unavailable.”

“You couldn’t have tried, say… _Lyla_?” Felicity argued.  At least, she leaned in to keep the tiff private.

It was almost reassuring that he knew her so well, had known _exactly_ what Felicity’s objections and suggestions were going to be.  “I need to find my son.  Malcolm and Slade give me more control than an ARGUS army—”

“ _Ol-i-ver_ —”

“ _And_ , by my calculation, Lyla should get my message and have _that army_ on their way in twelve hours at the most,” Oliver whispered.  _Again_ , for her ears only.  Felicity would pass the information along to those they wanted to know.

Felicity clamped her mouth shut in a frown, her eyes searching Oliver’s face.  He knew damn well that she wasn’t done arguing, but he needed to walk away.  He needed to check on the rest of the team, to regroup, give orders, find the others…find _William_ and get the _fuck_ off this island. 

If Oliver wanted a debate he would have called ARGUS first.

Besides, if Oliver didn’t walk away from her now, there was a good chance he was going to kiss her and they really hadn’t talked about going public with trying again and…his focus was fucked up _enough_ just with Felicity’s presence.

So he did.  Oliver walked away, toward the rest of the team, Felicity close behind.  He promised Felicity he would discuss Slade and Malcolm later (off the damn island, if he had his way), talked to Evelyn (which was a fucking waste of time), and had an argument with Thea that felt eerily similar to the conversation he’d had with Felicity. 

Oliver wasn’t sure if it was comforting or disconcerting how the woman in his life seemed to so often be united (frequently against him).  At least, with Thea he could play the protect Samantha and Felicity card.

He really _did_ feel much better with Felicity and Thea protecting each other.  Throw in a genius and a former Ras al Ghul and they’d be okay.  Oliver _hoped_.  He, also, hoped Samantha would just follow their Goddamn directions.  It was the only hope William’s mother had of surviving this place.

When he got back to the group with Thea, Felicity was picking a fight with Slade (who Oliver was pretty sure was enjoying every moment).  But they needed to move on.  There was no time.

Eye on the prize.

William, Felicity, Thea: Safe

Samantha:  Safe

Rest of the team: Safe.

Chase and his allies:  Neutralized.

Then… _then_ Oliver wanted to hold his son and kiss his girl and take them both the _fuck_ home.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?

Oliver gave Curtis the comm links and Felicity the tablet he had brought for her.  If anything could calm Felicity down, it was tech.  But the look in her eyes...he _really_ didn’t like the look in her eyes. Too much terror.  Not enough hope.

But then…out of the blue…Felicity’s lips were on his and for a split-second Oliver didn’t think about anything.  Anything but her.   

_God_ , he loved her.

It wasn’t the kiss Oliver wanted to give her.  It was just a simple press of her lips to his, one of the most chaste kisses they had ever exchanged.  But they didn’t have time for the kiss Oliver _wanted_ to give her.  They didn’t have time for _this_.  But he would take it.  And hold it.  And hope it gave Felicity the comfort that it gave him.

Oliver closed his eyes and tried to memorize the moment, let it give him strength.  He tried to return the favor, because he could feel Felicity’s desperation and this kiss…the look in her eyes, it was a little too much like that last kiss in Nanda Parbat.

“What was that for?” Oliver asked, hoping Felicity understood that he wasn’t asking why she would kiss him, but why _now_?  Why like this?  Why like it was goodbye?

“Just in case,” Felicity whispered and that was _exactly_ what Oliver had been afraid of.

He shook his head because…no.   _No_.  They were not going down this road.  This was…a _well-worn_ road, but…Oliver was _done_ with this road.  This was _not_ a goodbye.  That was… _unacceptable_. 

“We’re going to make it through this.”  Oliver tried to put all of his confidence into that simple statement.  Because he _was_ confident, Goddammit.  And he was too stubborn to lose.  Not today. 

“You can’t know that for sure.  I didn’t want to regret not kissing you,” Felicity murmured and the pain in her eyes was horrible.  “When it comes to the two of us, I regret enough as it is.”

Felicity’s words were heartfelt and full of emotion and if Oliver let them, they could break him.

Oliver wanted to tell her that he didn’t regret a _moment_ they had spent together.  He wanted to tell Felicity that she was his heart.  The very best part of him.  He wanted to kiss her again, kiss her _properly_ , but…

All that would do was make them both too emotionally compromised to do what they needed to do.  Ninety percent of the time Felicity was his light, his hope.  Maybe, the other ten percent Oliver needed to be hers.

Forcing a smile, Oliver murmured, “Let’s talk about this when we’re _off_ the island.” 

Because, yes, they needed to discuss _all_ of this.  He needed to know what nonsense she was beating herself up over now.  But more than that, Felicity needed to know that Oliver was _confident_ that they were going to have that conversation.  No other option was acceptable.

The look in her eyes and her slight nod told him that Felicity, at least, understood what Oliver was trying to say, even if she wasn’t as convinced as he would like. 

And, _again_ , he had the urge to kiss her.  _Really_ kiss her.  Oliver almost did it.  But the ferocity with which he craved it told him just how bad of an idea it was.

Later.

So, Oliver hugged Felicity to him.  One last…no, _not_ the last time.  He just hugged her.

For luck.  For foritude. 

Oliver took another deep breath, taking in Felicity’s scent and her strength, smiling to let her know that _he knew_ that this was the right course of action and it would bring them back together in the end.

Felicity gave his arm a final squeeze, before she left to follow the others.  Oliver knew how much it hurt her to leave.  But he needed her safe.  He would feel so much better once she was securely away.

Oliver watched her go, knowing that he shouldn’t, but unable to tare his eyes away. 

Felicity glanced behind and found him staring.  She smiled, sadly, and mouthed, “I love you.”

His eyes burned and…a shot of terror impaled him.  What if this _was_ the last time?  What if this was goodbye for good?  What if something happened to Felicity and Oliver wasn’t there to stop it…?

_Fuck_.  See, emotionally compromised.  _This_ was why Oliver needed Felicity off this God forsaken island.  But…he, _again_ , forced something resembling a smile and mouthed, “I love you,” back.

Felicity’s smile widened and she stumbled over a tree root (since she was walking backward on her stupid heeled boots).

“Watch where you’re going,” Oliver yelled out, “and be _careful_.”  The last thing they needed was for her to get a Goddamn broken ankle.

Shooting Oliver one last smile, Felicity turned and hurried to catch up to the others.

Oliver took a deep breath as they disappeared from sight. Thea would keep Felicity and Samantha safe.  Malcolm would keep Thea safe.  Oliver could focus on William and the rest of the team.

He turned to Nyssa and Slade…then they would take Chase out and get the _fuck_ off this island.

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

 

Regrets.

Felicity had a boat load of them. 

Ha!  What Felicity wouldn’t do for a boat load of…well, _boats_.

Okay, that didn’t even make sense.  She needed to pull herself together and get her head in the game.  If there was ever a time that Felicity needed to be _present_ with her team and focus on the mission it was now.  Otherwise, this fraking island would be their mass grave.   

And wasn’t _that_ pleasant thought?  But melodramatic as it was, it was accurate.  They needed every brain they had working on a way off Lian Yu.  That was where Oliver (and everyone else) needed Felicity’s focus, not in her head drowning in regret.

Drowning.  _That_ was a much more appropriate metaphor, actually.

Felicity wasn’t sure why she was _so_ freaked out this time.  Why this time felt so serious.  Why she was so damn _terrified_ that she would never see Oliver again.   It wasn’t her death that scared her…it was his.  And the others and…God, his _son_.

This wasn’t Felicity’s first rodeo.  They seemed to do this biannually.  She was an old hat at this.  But Chase, somehow, seemed…worse.  Crazier.  Evil _-er_. 

Though, how someone got evil _er_ than Damian Darhk, Felicity had no idea.  At least, Chase only wanted to destroy Oliver and everyone in his circle, Darhk tried to wipe out 99.9% of the planet.

But Darhk had had a family that he actually _cared_ about (imagine that) and a motive (even if it was an evil one) and Chase had…a really fraked-up obsession with Oliver that dominated his entire existence.  A sinister, ugly need to prove Oliver was as dark and twisted as Chase, himself, was.

Sometimes, Felicity thought that this was less about revenge and more about… _hero-worship_.  That Simon Morison had spent five years trying to _become_ Oliver…or, at least, the Oliver Chase _thought_ he was…the monster.

Adrian Chase became a monster to fight a monster and had _loved_ every moment of it.  What a disappointment the real Oliver Queen must have been.  Now, Chase was willing to do anything to prove that his perverse and distorted beliefs about Oliver were true.  He was willing to die for it.

So, _yeah_ , craziest villain yet.

Also, the fact that two of their _previous_ Big Bads, and the daughter of a third, were their _allies_ in this little adventure had to say _something_ about Chase being on a whole other level.

Well, _one_ previous Big Bad now that Malcolm had…poor Thea.

Though, Felicity couldn’t help but think that if Malcolm Merlyn was their only casualty today, then that was them getting off easy.

And Felicity really had a sickening feeling that they _weren’t_ going to get off easy.  She just hoped that _that_ wasn’t a premonition.

Great, now she was believing in premonitions _and_ languishing in pessimism.  Felicity’s head space really had gone to crap.  And given eleven other people were counting on her to use the genius brain she had bragged about, including an innocent ten-year-old boy, who she had never met but, somehow, loved anyway…

And the idea of that boy, _Oliver’s boy_ , not being able to grow up…it was too horrible to contemplate.

But this brain they were counting on…it couldn’t even correctly add up two IQ points.  What the _hell_ had Felicity been thinking?  It wasn’t even possible for two people to add up to 500.  The scales didn’t _go_ that high.  Together, her and Curtis were 350-360 max. 

And decreasing by the moment, God _damn_ it!

Felicity really hoped that Samantha wasn’t aware of how IQ points work and, frak, why did Oliver’s Baby!Mama fluster her so damn much?

It wasn’t like Felicity was, actually, _threatened_ by the woman.  Okay, maybe, it had crossed her mind at first, but really, Felicity _knew_ that Oliver didn’t have feelings for Samantha.  He probably never had.

No, Oliver was hers.  Felicity knew that.  Body and soul.

Samantha even seemed to be _rooting_ for them to get back together, which was weird, even though Felicity was pretty sure that was mostly a guilty conscious on her part.  And she _should_ feel guilty. 

Maybe, _that_ was why Samantha had Felicity on-edge.  Maybe, it was because there were about a thousand ways the woman had handled the Oliver/William situation that Felicity disagreed with, some of which rather vehemently.  And, some of them, had exploded in Felicity’s face along with Oliver and William’s, ruining _all_ their lives. 

Okay, so _maybe_ …there was some unresolved resentment there.  Great, that would be _super fun_ to address once they all got off this hell hole.  Just what Oliver and Felicity’s fragile new relationship needed.

No, that wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t fragile.   This might be a new start, but it was strong, with an excellent foundation.  And Felicity wasn’t going to let Samantha shake it this time. 

Though, _this time_ , Samantha wouldn’t be disappearing from their lives so easily, because William wouldn’t be disappearing.  Not if Felicity had anything to say about it.  And she _planned_ to have a say.  A rather loud say, if necessary.

Except…this was so not helping Felicity disarm an island full of bombs that were threatening to kill every single one of them, making this entire mental ramble completely null and void. 

Come on, Smoak, _focus_. 

She needed to concentrate on what she was doing, which was simultaneously remotely deactivating 5000 bombs, while Digg tried to start a plane that she really didn’t want to get on without Oliver, as she listened to his breathing on the comms (it comforted her, okay?) and counted her regrets.   Felicity was all about the multitasking.

Maybe, it was the _regret_ that made this year harder.  This was the first time Felicity was in a situation like this and she couldn’t help but look back on the last year and wish…that she had done _so much_ differently.

Every decision that had felt so right at the time, every _one_ had been made for the wrong reasons, out of anger or hurt or fear.  Or, often, all three. 

Standing there, facing her own death, Oliver’s death, his son’s death…that _poor boy_ …there were so many things Felicity would do differently.  She wished…

Felicity wished she had said frak it to one step at a time.  She wished that she had thrown Oliver that private birthday celebration with the lingerie and the candlelight.  She wished they hadn’t wasted a _week_ between the walk home from Rick’s Bar and Oliver’s birthday…

No.  Felicity wasn’t going back far enough.  She regretted this summer.  But, for the first time, she didn’t regret letting it happen, she regretted the way it _ended_.  She regretted not staying and talking.  She regretted not at least trying, giving Oliver the chance to try to explain. 

Maybe then she wouldn’t have involved poor, sweet Billy in this.  He’d deserved so much more than being a rebound, then loving a woman whose heart was already taken.  And no matter what Oliver said, Felicity couldn’t help but believe that if she had never gotten involved with Billy in the first place, he would be alive today. 

She wished…she wished…that day, the day she had walked…well, _rolled_ in on Oliver sending William away…Felicity wished she had stayed.

Stayed and _screamed_ at him!  _Demanded_ that Oliver explain himself!  Told him how _stupid_ he was being, how wrong he was to even consider sending William away.  Felicity wished she had kept yelling until Oliver was convinced to get on his stupid bike and bring his son _home_.

Felicity had told herself that that wasn’t her job.  That it was Oliver’s job to fix this and she was done fixing _his_ mistakes, but if she had, at least, tried…if she hadn’t let pride and fear and resentment rule her…

Would things have been different if she had?  Would they all still be fighting for their lives on this stupid island?

Felicity would never know, but, at least, they would have had a year together.  All of them.

And, maybe, _that_ was what Felicity regretted most.

Digg called them over and Felicity clicked off the comm, pulling it out of her ear and shoving it deep inside her pocket.  She needed to be present with her friends, not out in the ether with Oliver.  If someone…any of them got hurt because she was over focused on Oliver she would never forgive herself.

Felicity joined the group, having accomplished _nothing_ (well, except the regret counting.  She was excelling at that).

She couldn’t say that she was surprised that Chase had sabotaged the plane.  She couldn’t say she _didn’t_ agree with Slade (though, God knew that was the strangest turn of events).  Felicity didn’t want to leave without Oliver and William, but having no way off the island… _that_ was helping exactly no one.

As they stood on top of a literal ticking time bomb…well, maybe not _literally_ ticking.  Or time.  But still...a literal _bomb_.

Felicity wasn’t sure what telling Oliver would help, but Digg seemed to think they should and hearing his voice always brought her panic down a couple notches…she just hoped it wouldn’t be the last time she heard it.

Frak, Felicity really needed to stop thinking that way.  

She got Oliver on the comm and…well, he seemed more upset by the plane being incapacitated than Felicity was. 

Then, somehow…his urgency became Felicity’s urgency.  Oliver’s, “Go now!” reverberated through her head.

Then she heard Oliver’s desperate gasp.  If Felicity listened carefully enough, she could almost hear Chase in the background, but what was he _saying_?

“Felicity?”

She jerked around to see Digg looking at her expectantly, hands on his hips. 

“What did Oliver say?”

Felicity could hear Oliver’s breathing, heard a whimper and…she yanked the comm out of her ear.  She was useless while she listened to it.  It was so much easier when she had just her computers and the comms to listen to.  She hated being out in the field.

At least, she hated being out in the field without Oliver right there with her.

“ _Felicity_!  What did he _say_?!” Digg repeated, louder this time, loud enough to make Felicity jump, she was just _that_ on edge.

“He…um…he said…” Nothing good.  Nothing at all.  Turning, Felicity faced the group.  Nine faces.  All staring at her expectantly.  Frak.  “He said to _go_.  To find the ARGUS supply ship on the East Side of the island.”

Slade was shaking his head before Felicity could even finish her sentence, walking over to _actually join_ their little circle (Well, not so little.  Ten people wasn’t a small group, especially when one considered all their lives were at stake.) “That’s thirty minutes away.  _If_ we move quickly.”  Slade looked pointedly at Samantha.

“There has to be another opinion,” Quentin interjected, looking around at those gathered.  Felicity wondered if he was calculating who was likely to make it to the East Side in time.  Slade had, clearly, already done so.

“Oh!  The prison,” Thea gasped, grabbing onto Quentin’s arm, her eyes darting to Felicity, then Slade.  “The ARGUS underground cells, they have to be strong enough to function as a bomb shelter.”

The muscle in Slade’s jaw jumped.  “Twenty minutes away.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Rene muttered, turning away in frustration.   Felicity didn’t disagree with the sentiment.

But Digg was clearly considering it, he turned to Felicity and asked calmly, “Do you think we can make it?”

Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  Five minutes ago, she would have refused to leave without Oliver, now she was trying to figure out how to be _not dead_ with her nearest and dearest five minutes from now.

“I don’t know if we have that much time.” Though, how much time were they wasting discussing this?  Felicity sped up her words, “Chase sounded really trigger happy, losing his marbles by the second.  Actually, I’m pretty sure there aren’t any marbles left.”

It, suddenly, felt like Felicity could _feel_ the ticking of the bomb beneath her feet.  Though, that was probably just her heart pounding. 

Rene turned to Curtis.  “Can’t you just disarm the bombs over the patch we’re standing on?”  He gestured to the ground around them.

Curtis looked at Felicity and she saw her own blank terror reflected back as he answered, “That will take more than twenty minutes.”

“We’re wasting time,” Nyssa interjected, looking like she wanted to be moving already, which was great, but where to?

“No kidding, genius—”

Rene started to argue, but Dinah put a hand on his arm and pointed to the plane.  “You think that has a life raft?  Maybe if we can get far enough from shore?”

Digg looked like he was considering it, “Maybe—”

“You know,” Curtis burst out, looking directly at Felicity, “these are all surface bombs, if we could get—”

“ _Underground_ we might be able to escape them,” Felicity finished Curtis’ thought, for the first time feeling hope.  “ _Yes_.  There are tunnels.  If we can travel to the East Side _underground_ —”

“I know of caves, not tunnels,” Slade said, softly, looking at Felicity as if he were sorry he had to tell her this, which was more empathy than Felicity would have thought him capable of.

But she _knew_ that Oliver had said ‘tunnels’.  Mentally, Felicity flipped through the hundreds of horrible stories she had gathered from him over the years.  Shaking her head, Felicity insisted, “I _know_ Oliver said…” 

Then it came to her.  Hub City.  Darhk.  Oliver was feeling chatty with the help of a few drinks and the need to prove to her that he could change and be open and…oh, why hadn’t she let him?  So much wasted time. 

“There _are_ tunnels,” Felicity insisted, stepping toward Slade.  She’d probably grab his arm if she didn’t hate him so much.  “Old, old tunnels that lead to…”  Her eyes popped open wide as she remembered.  “A Nexus Chamber.”

“A Nexus Chamber?” Nyssa perked up at that, interest and, maybe even hope, lighting her eyes.  “There is a _Nexus Chamber_ on this island?”  Felicity nodded, somewhat frantically.  “Then we _must_ go there.”

Really, where else could be safer?   It exists on a different plane of reality.  God knew, this plane wasn’t the place to be at the moment.

_Actually_ …Felicity turned to Samantha, who had been shut down and silent through the entire debate.  “It would be a perfect place to hide William.”

Samantha came alive at that, grabbing Felicity’s hand and it was weird, but Felicity squeezed back.  “Then what are we waiting for?”

Slade let out a deep sigh.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  He sounded like he wasn’t sure if they were even sane.

And Felicity didn’t know where it was, so they...wait, she _did_ know. “The old Chinese Prison.  Do you know where that is?  The entrance to the tunnels is through—”

“Yes!” Slade drew up tall, his eyes brightening.  “And it’s close.”

“Let’s move!” Digg called and no one had to be told twice.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

It was really hard to think clearly…to think _at all_ with that _Psychopath’s_ hands on his _son_.

And, of _course_ , because the universe hated him, it had never been more important for Oliver to think clearly than it was at _that_ moment. 

But emotion kept leaking through.  That was his _son_.  Oliver’s _son_ , who he hadn’t seen in over a year, who was bigger now, taller, and was… _petrified_.

And behind them, on Oliver’s own person hell of an island was everyone else he cared about.  Every _single_ person.  His sister.  His…his Felicity.  God, _Felicity_.  Her voice was still ringing in his ear and he wished he could _still_ hear her.  He wished she’d tell him what to do.  How to get out of this.

Their lives were in his hands, all of them.  The hands that Oliver could barely keep from shaking.  Fuck.  Fuck.  _Fuck_! 

He needed to focus.  He needed to keep Chase talking.  He had to _stall_.   Oliver trusted his team, trusted their intellect and their ingenuity, but they needed _time_.  The only thing he could give them now was time for Felicity and Slade to get everyone to that boat.

How much had passed?

It was impossible to tell.  Oliver felt like everything was going in slow motion because Adrian Chase had his _filthy hands_ on _his son_.

And Oliver knew _exactly_ what that hold was best for.  He knew how easy it was to snap a neck in that position.  If Oliver could snap a grown man’s neck…a muscular, big boned _man’s_ neck, how easy would it be to snap a ten-year-old boy’s?

And Chase was…so _fucking_ crazy.  One stray thought.  A seconds’ impulse and William’s life would be snuffed out forever.  Before Oliver even had a chance to know him.

Terror. 

_That_ was what Oliver was feeling.  Felicity was right.  In _so many_ ways she was right.  He should _never_ have sent his son away. 

So much wasted time.

But thinking about that now was counterproductive.  Oliver needed to figure this out.  He needed to find another way.  He couldn’t lose either of them.  _Any_ of them.

Had enough time passed?  Had any time at _all_ passed?  If he gave them enough time, Oliver just _knew_ that they would find a way.

Adrian had anticipated Oliver’s every move, was ten steps ahead of him at every corner.  But not Felicity.  Not his team.  _They_ could outsmart this lunatic.  Felicity could.

Just one more time, baby.  Only _once_ more.

And it had _better_ be the last time, because Oliver couldn’t do this again.  This devil’s choice.  Shado and Sara.  Mom and Thea.

Each time, Oliver had tried to outsmart a crazy person.  Had tried his _damnedest_ not to choose.  To offer himself instead. 

It hadn’t worked.  Not once.  Shado.  Mom.  Gone forever because of these sick games.

What the _hell_ was Oliver going to do?  How did he make _this time_ end differently?

Had enough time passed?

Chase was still taunting him.  And William…he _still_ looked terrified.  His beautiful boy…

If Oliver let himself look in William’s eyes he was going to lose it.

Then heard Felicity’s voice in the back of his head. 

_Find another way._

Then Oliver couldn’t _not_ look in his son’s eyes and, when he did, he knew there was no way in hell he was going to kill Chase in front of William.  He wasn’t going to participate in the most elaborate and _sick_ suicide plan in creation.

So, Oliver lowered his bow and prayed.  He saw Chase loosen his hold.  Just enough.  And, then, he let an arrow fly.

And William was in Oliver’s arms.  His boy was safe and _in his arms_ and it was the first time and it felt so _fucking_ incredible.  And…only holding Felicity had ever felt this good, but it was different and still amazing and…

Oliver knew if this happened, if he got to hold his son, he would lose it.  And he did.  He lost _all control_ over his emotions.  Tears fell and he clutched William tightly and spouted nonsense at Chase and swore he would keep William safe and…

_That_ was his downfall.  That was _all_ of their downfalls.

Oliver realized far too late his mistake.

He had let himself get distracted.  Let emotion over power instinct and intellect and…Oliver had gotten sloppy.  He’d been overwhelmed.  Selfish in his need to just _hold_ his son.

If he had just taken a _second_ to knock Chase unconscious…because even if Adrian hadn’t had a gun in his pocket, there were a million ways he could kill himself and…

Oliver had been distracted.  If he hadn’t been, he would have realized immediately that the only way to keep everyone safe was to knock…him… _out_.

If Oliver had, everything would have been different.

But he lost his edge and…

The gun shot rang out milliseconds after it had appeared and…too late to stop him…

There was a beat of silence.

A moment of hope…

Then…

The explosions rang out.  Distant explosions.  One after the other.  Never ending.

_It’s going to be so lonely…_

_Without Felicity…._

It felt like his insides were being torn out.

No.  No.  No.   This was _not_ happening.  It wasn’t.

Thea.

John.

Oh God, _Felicity_.   No…no… _no_ … 

This wasn’t happening.  It was a nightmare.  That was it.   This couldn’t be real.

Oliver couldn’t do this… _living thing_ without Felicity.

That kiss.  It couldn’t be their last.  It just _couldn’t_.

“Was my mom on that island?”

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed…

Wait… _no_ …

Ten seconds as a father and he had already fucked up.  Oliver shook himself, took a deep breath, and turned his son…

_His son._ Oliver took William’s small face in his hands and told him, “ _No_.”

William barely responded.  He lifted an eyebrow questioningly, almost disbelievingly.  His face was… _flat_.  His eyes were distant.  Numb.  Empty, almost.

A lump rose in Oliver throat.  “ _Listen_ to me, William,” he pleaded and he could hear the emotion in his voice.  There was no controlling it now.  Maybe, it didn’t matter anymore.  The damage was done.  “Your mom _was_ on that island, but she’s _fine_.”

This time, William’s look was _definitely_ skeptical as his eyes returned to the island.  It was in flames.

_Fuck_.

“I don’t think _anything_ on that island is fine,” William whispered and it was his flat, even tone that was so terrifying.  Oliver knew he was in shock, but…

“Samantha… _your mom_ was with my friends, my… _our_ family and they are the smartest, most resourceful people on the planet.  They had warning.  They got to safety.”  Oliver _had_ to believe that.  He had to.

“Is Felicity one of those people?” William asked, his eyes still on the island, his body unnaturally still.

Oliver had no idea why hearing William say Felicity’s name felt like a punch to the gut, but it did.  “Yeah.  Yeah, she is.  Why—?”

William pointed to Chase.  To the cold, lifeless body slumped in the corner.  Oliver had forgotten, about…the body. 

“ _He_ said her name like she was important,” William said and it was the first time Oliver heard inflection in his boy’s voice.  It was filled with hatred and rage and Oliver didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Is he dead?” William asked and Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.  This was something he had tried so hard to keep his boy from seeing.

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed, swallowing.  What else could he say? 

“ _Good_ ,” William spat and he looked like he wanted to spit on Chase’s corpse, or kick him.  Oliver had no idea what he would do if he tried.  But thankfully, William turned away from the body, instead asking, “Who is she?”

“Felicity?” Oliver repeated, struggling to keep up.  His brain wasn’t going as quickly as he needed it to.  Was he in shock too? 

William nodded and Oliver blinked, struggling to concentrate on the question, to come up with the words for what Felicity was to him.  To explain her to his _son_. 

Did he say Felicity was his partner?  His friend?  His _girlfriend_?  All were true, but so incredibly inadequate.  Ex-fiancé seemed…so _wrong_.  God, he hoped she would be _fiancé_ again soon.  Or wife.  Wife would be good.

Oliver swore to God, if he had to go into the afterlife and drag Felicity back…

“She’s the woman I love,” Oliver finally said, before he made the decision to do so.

William turned to look up at him with _too_ intelligent, and _far_ too bitter, eyes.  He was ten years-old now.  His son had been alive a whole decade and Oliver had no idea what he was like.  He had no idea what ten-year-old’s in _general,_ were like.  How much did they understand of the world around them?

Looking into William’s eyes, he seemed to understand _a lot_ , and considering everything he had been through, that was a terrifying thought.  This child, this _person_ , had a whole complex personality that Oliver knew almost nothing about and…

How the _hell_ was Oliver going to do this?  He didn’t know how to be a father.  He was _going_ to fuck it up.  He was _already_ fucking it up. 

There was no way Oliver could do it alone.  He needed Felicity.  And John.  And Thea.  And...

He blew out a breath.  Oliver didn’t have time for this.  _They_ didn’t have time for this.

Placing his hands on William’s shoulders, he crouched down to look in his eyes (he didn’t have to go nearly as far as he did just a year before).  “This is what we are going to do, we’re going to see if the radio is working…”  Wait.  “Radio…”  Comms.  Why hadn’t he thought of it before?   Oliver felt like a _complete_ moron.  “What the hell is wrong with me!”  He jolted to his feet, his hand flying to his chest, jabbing at the comm button.

“Felicity!  _Felicity_!” 

Oliver yelled it.  As if yelling would make a difference.

But all Oliver could make out was static.  He closed his eyes and he took a deep breath, fighting the burn and the panic…

William needed him.  They _all_ needed him.  Oliver couldn’t afford even a _second_ to break down.

When Oliver looked back at his boy, he realized he had managed to hide precisely _nothing,_ because William’s eyes looked panicky as well.

“What…?” William’s voice shook and Oliver wondered if it would be better if he stayed in shock.  For a while anyway.

“It’s okay.”  Oliver laid a hand on William’s shoulder again, struggling with himself.  “I was just checking my comms, but they’re down.”  _Shit_.

William chewed on his lower lip. “That’s not good, is it?”

No, it wasn’t.  “It doesn’t mean anything, except that the comms are down.  So, we’ll use this boat’s radio if it’s working—”

“It’s not.  I tried it.  I was stuck in that room for _hours_ , you don’t think I _tried_ to call for help?  I’m not _stupid_.”  William’s tone was snippy now and Oliver wasn’t sure what to do with a ten year-old’s mood swings.

Still, Oliver managed what he hoped passed for a reassuring smile, “I know that.  I _know_.”  He barely knew William at all, but it was already clear that the last thing he was was stupid.

Oliver pressed a kiss to William’s forehead before he even thought about it, proving just how little emotional control he had left.  But William didn’t pull away.  That was good, at least.  They may be all each other had, so…

No.  Not thinking that way.  _No_.

“Well, we know the engine works,” Oliver stated as calmly as he could.  “We’ll drive the boat to the East side of the Island where the ARGUS supply ship is docked—”

“ARGUS?” William gasped, his eyes wide.  “They actually _exist_?”

This time, smiling was easier.  “Very much so.”

“They’re like…they’re like _SHIELD_!” William breathed, like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever heard and it was great to hear something in his voice other than fear and rage.

Only problem was…  “Shield?”

“ _SHIELD_.” William looked at Oliver like he was crazy…or completely out of touch.  God, this was going to become a thing, wasn’t it?  “The Avengers?  Agents of SHIELD?  Marvel Comics?”

“Right.”  Yes.  Oliver _did_ know this.  Thank God.  And thank _God_ for Felicity making him watch those movies two summers ago.  “That’s _exactly_ what ARGUS is like.  And one of my friends on this Island is,” _not_ was, _is_ , “the husband of the ARGUS director.  Lyla’s like…” Crap, what was his name?  “Samuel Jackson?”

“Nick Fury?”

“Yes!”  _Nick Fury._   Damn, why hadn’t Oliver remembered that?

And William’s expression…a combination of impressed that Oliver knew this person and disgusted that he didn’t know Nick Fury’s name…

God, Oliver really, _really_ couldn’t do this without Felicity.

And how the hell did a ten-year-old manage to say so much with a single expression?  Was that _normal_?

“We’ll get to the ARGUS supply ship and, hopefully,” Oliver took another deep breath, “your mom and Felicity and _everyone_ will already be on the boat.  Safe and sound.”

William’s expression shut down so fast it was frightening.  “And if they aren’t?”

“If they’re not…”   _Fuck_.  “Then we contact Layla, the director of ARGUS, who is probably already on her way.”  Oliver hoped.  He really had no idea how much time had passed.  “And we search every inch of that island until we find them.”

Fear flashed in William’s eyes and Oliver knew _exactly_ how he thought they were going to find them.

“ _Alive_ ,” Oliver clarified, _fiercely_ , as if he could will it to be so.  “We will find them _alive_.”

William looked far from convinced.  Or, maybe, he was just afraid to hope.  Oliver understood that.

“You need to believe me, buddy,” Oliver pleaded, a child this young should never be without hope.

But the look in William’s eyes didn’t look young at all.  His eyes looked like they had seen too much.  “I believe that _you_ believe that.”

_Great_.  It seemed Oliver’s son was an old soul.  He crouched down again. “William, I will do _everything_ in my power to keep you safe and bring your mother back to you.”  And Felicity and the others to him.

And…William gave Oliver his first genuine smile.  “That, I believe… _Dad_.”

Dad.

_That_ was a shocker.  It almost sent Oliver tumbling backward.  It wasn’t something he had thought he’d hear… _ever_.  Certain not without a ton of time and conversation and so much…

Oliver was still so thrown that he was totally caught off-guard with the one-two punch that was his son’s next statement.

“Because you’re the Green Arrow.”

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

The old Chinese prison was blessedly close and everyone one was feeling pretty damn motivated to get there right _the hell now_ , so it wasn’t long before they entered the abandoned building…well, if it counted as a building, given it was mostly underground.

Felicity was actually surprised that no one broke a limb in their mad dash to get there.  And by no one, she meant herself.  Or Curtis.  Or Samantha.  Though, thinking that felt petty for some odd reason.

But the speed they had to move did help Felicity’s sanity, because it didn’t allow her much time to think about the fact that Oliver was _out there_. 

Had _he_ found shelter?  Did he have a plan to keep _himself_ from being blown up?  The idiot always thought of himself last.   And Oliver often forgot he was not unbreakable, that he wasn’t a metahuman and he couldn’t survive a blast like…

God, _this_ was why Felicity wanted to be by Oliver’s side.  To remind him that _he_ was important too.  That there were people who counted on him, who loved him, that needed him to stay _alive_.  And if they were together, then…

Being left behind was the worst fate.  If the island was going to blow up, Felicity wanted to be beside Oliver and…

Felicity clicked the comm on for another five seconds.  Just to hear Oliver’s voice.  Yup, still alive.  Okay, she could breathe.

She really wanted to demand to know what his plan was to survive the blast, but Oliver was screaming at Chase and it seemed like a really bad idea to distract him, so…off went the comm. 

For another minute or two, at least.

Inside the mostly basement prison, right where Oliver said it was, was a gigantic hole in the wall, leading to a tunnel.

Slade turned and threw Felicity a half-smile that was surprisingly uncreepy.  “Looks like you were right, Ms. Smoak.  It’s a good thing for all of us that Oliver finally found someone to open up to.”

And, in what must be the oddest turn of events, Felicity actually found Slade Wilson’s compliment strangely touching.  So, _clearly_ , she was officially insane.

“Seconded,” Digg called out, gesturing toward the tunnel.  “Fall out people, we don’t have time to stand around and chat.”

Digg had a single flare and entered the tunnel first, the others following.  Thea squeezed Felicity’s hand before disappearing inside, but it was Slade who insisted on bringing up the rear, which was either comforting or terrifying, Felicity couldn’t decide which.  Her emotions were so muddled at the moment, it was hard to differentiate anything. 

And it was fraking _dark_ in that tunnel. The single flare was barely enough to keep them from running into each other.  Felicity wasn’t afraid of the dark.  Usually.  Her and Oliver had been stuck in a dark Bunker pretty recently and…yeah, she would feel _so much_ better if Oliver was there.

But, then again, Felicity wasn’t really afraid for herself at the moment.  Any and all fear she felt was focused on Oliver and William’s survival.  The sheer terror she felt for them…she didn’t think she had any left over for herself.

Though, maybe, Felicity was scared to death of living _without_ Oliver.

Felicity turned on the comm, _again_ , and listened until the terror in Oliver’s voice made her heart seize and tears fill her eyes so quickly that the world blurred into a dark fog.  It was too much and she had to turn it off again.

Rinse and repeat.

Felicity didn’t get a chance to repeat her ritual again, though.   The tunnel soon ended in a huge chamber.  The light from the room glowed and drew them all in like moths to the flame.

“Who left the candles lit?”

It was Quentin who asked that and…poor Quentin.  Metahumans, parallel Earths, Nexus Chambers, dead daughter doppelgangers…it was probably all breaking his brain.  Why couldn’t Chase have left the poor man out of it?  Hadn’t he suffered enough?

Samantha pushed ahead into the chamber, her eyes wide and frantic.  “Someone must be here.  William!  _William_!” 

And, clearly, she didn’t get this whole _danger thing_ , because if William _had_ been there, under-guard, Samantha would have gotten captured at best, shot dead at worst.  That would have been a fabulous thing for her son to witness.

But William wasn’t there.  _No one_ was there.  _Damn_ it!  Where the hell was he? 

Surely, Chase hadn’t been telling the truth when he said he killed him (that was something they had _not_ shared with Samantha).  Please, _God_ , let him be with Oliver.  Besides William’s safety…Oliver would make sure he was out of harm’s way if he was with William.  Maybe on that damn ARGUS ship or… _anywhere safe_.  Just let them both be safe. 

“I don’t think anyone’s here,” Thea said softly, going to Samantha and putting an arm around her, which Felicity was grateful for, because she really didn’t want to have to be the one to do it.

Instead, Felicity walked to the center of the large room and looked around.  It was a lot like the Nexus in Hub City, not identical, but…oh, it was hard to remember.  Columns and stone and steps and hundreds…no, _thousands_ of candles.  A space larger than what _should_ exist in the area it was confined to.  It would be beautiful if it weren’t so damn freaky.

Slade entered last and walked the perimeter.  Had he been a soldier?  Felicity couldn’t remember.  He came to another tunnel at the opposite end.  “Oliver’s son could be up ahead,” he said, peering into the outgoing tunnel.

“We should stay here,” Nyssa announced, crossing her arms and leaning against a column, making it clear, she for one, intended to stay right there.  “This is the safest place until we get word that the threat has been neutralized.”

Automatically, Felicity’s hand went to her comm, but she stopped herself from turning it on.  She needed to be present in the moment and this turning on and off the comms thing was driving her insane.  

“ _Why_ is it the safest?  This chamber could collapse,” Dinah argued, squinting up at the ceiling, perhaps trying to judge it’s stability.  “I thought the plan was to try to get to the boat through the tunnels?”

“I agree,” Rene added, which might be the first time he’d ever said those words.  “And who the hell left the candles burning?  It’s creepy as fuck.”

Felicity didn’t disagree, but she cleared her throat and told him, “No one.  I mean, I think they’re always lit.  By magic.”  It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears.

“Indeed,” Nyssa agreed.  And how come _she_ didn’t sound stupid?

Samantha was shaking her head though, that crazy, frantic look in her eyes building, and, honestly, Felicity felt for her.  Felicity was about two seconds away from a full on freak-out herself. 

But, then, Samantha bolted for the outgoing tunnel.  “I need to find my son.  I have to—”

_Kaboom_!

Slade grabbed Samantha around the waist and swung her away from the tunnel just in time.  It collapsed in a storm of rock and dirt.

Explosions echoed around them and through the chamber. 

Stone crashed and fell as the tunnels collapsed.

Felicity felt Thea grab her hand and she squeezed back.

Her eyes fell closed as her heart started to roar and all Felicity could see was Oliver’s face.  It was like a thousand snap shots of her life with him.  

Was this her life flashing before her eyes?  If it was, then clearly someone thought her life was Oliver, because that was all Felicity could see.

But, then, all she saw on the inside of her eyelids were explosions.  Endless explosions.  A scream caught in her throat.  She couldn’t breathe.

“Felicity!  Felicity!”

There were hands on her face, but they weren’t Oliver’s…they were too small, too soft…so Felicity didn’t care.  She didn’t want them there.

“ _Felicity_!”

“Slap her.”

It was Rene’s snarky command that pulled Felicity back to reality and she opened her eyes to see herself staring into Thea’s intense hazel gaze.  “Hey, hey, we’re okay,” the younger girl was telling her.  “Your crazy magic room saved us.  Not a speck of dust fell.”

Felicity’s eyes flew around the room, her face still held by Thea’s hands.  She was right, the tunnels had collapsed, but the chamber was untouched. 

“The floor didn’t even shake,” Dinah murmured in wonder.

But that didn’t seem right.  Because Felicity was _certain_ that she had felt the _world_ shake.  Was it really just her?

“We’re _okay_ ,” Thea whispered again.

But Felicity felt a tear slip free.  “ _Oliver_.”

She didn’t think she had actually made a sound, but Thea’s face crumbled, her hands starting to shake against Felicity’s face and Felicity moved to clutch them to her, hold them as Thea’s head fell to her shoulder.

“Hey. _Hey_ ,” Digg called, his voice firm and soothing.  Then he was there, embracing them both, murmuring, “You know Oliver has at least three more lives left.  He’s safe.”  John turned his head, leveling his stare across the room.  “So is William.”

Felicity followed Digg’s gaze and found Samantha had collapsed into a ball, her eyes staring unseeingly, tears rolling down her face.  Quentin was next to her, his arm around her.  “Oliver’s too stubborn to lose,” the older man was telling the stricken woman, but he looked up and met Felicity’s eyes and they were both thinking of Quentin’s child, who Oliver hadn’t been able to save, despite the power of his will.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Felicity clutched Thea’s hands and turned her face into Digg’s chest and prayed that _this time_ it would be enough.

Because there wasn’t a lot _they_ could do.  There wasn’t anything they could so.  The tunnels had collapsed.  And, for the time being, they were trapped.

 

_Revised 1/2/2018_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’ve come to the end of our cannon journey, from here on out, it is all me. 
> 
> I truly hope you enjoyed my William.  I made him as sassy and observant and moody as all the ten year-olds I know (and considering I just spent 48 hours in the woods with no 4G with 10 & 11 year-olds this weekend, I’d say I know them better than I’d like to, at the moment).  I also really wanted to show the Queen genetics shining through with aspects of both Oliver and Thea.  And since we already know William’s into super heroes I’m running with that one.
> 
> In general I agree that it isn’t very realistic for William to call Oliver ‘Dad,’ but I have a very specific reason for him doing so and it will become clear as the story progresses.
> 
> If you haven’t read it yet and enjoy smut, check out _Best Birthday Ever_ , up here on AO3. 
> 
> The gorgeous new title page was made by the multitalented **laurabelle2930**  and it works perfectly for these next several chapters.  My chapter art pales in comparison, but I want you to see the images I have in my head while writing each chapter.
> 
> And, of course, the three lovely ladies who keep me going, **Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed,** and **Ireland1733,** thank you from the bottom of my exhausted heart **.  ;-)**. 
> 
> Please, take a minute to leave me your thoughts if you can.  I would be very grateful.  Also, kudos are awesome!
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/ or Twitter, also, Emmilynestill.  I would love to chat!
> 
> Happy Reading,
> 
> Emmy
> 
>  


	6. (Not) Everybody Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first post-Episode 5x23 chapter, so as of October 12 this is AU from here on out. 

 

“It doesn’t look like they’re here either,” William muttered, his voice bitter, his foot playing with a burnt piece of…something.  Whatever it once was, it was no longer recognizable.

Then, before Oliver could say  _anything_ , William’s leg shot out with a violent kick and sent the lump flying.  Oliver wasn’t sure whether he should be proud of his son’s obvious athletic ability or terrified of the next mood swing that was about to erupt.

Swallowing, Oliver squared his shoulders.  He needed to stay positive for his son.  If he let himself slip, even for a second, into believing he’d lost them…he wouldn’t be able to function.

“Well,  _that_ ,” Oliver pointed to the wreckage of what must have been a small jet, “Is Chase’s plane.  This is the last place they were, so it’s a good place to start.  We can trace their steps from here.”

William sent him a…very _teenagery_ look.  He reminded Oliver so much of Thea when he first came home as he said, sarcasm dripping from every word, “I don’t think we’re going to find their  _steps_.  I think there is a good chance their  _steps_  have been…I dunno,  _blown to smithereens_.”  

After that, William avoided his eyes, allowing Oliver to wince without an audience as the boy went back to picking through the rubble with his feet.  Maybe looking for the next thing to test his soccer skills with.   

_Damn it_.

Oliver took a deep breath.  He counted backwards from ten, like Felicity always did, and…he, still, he had  _no idea_  what to say.  He was so out of his depth here it wasn’t even funny.

When they got to the ARGUS supply ship and found it empty (which did make Oliver worry for the skeleton crew usually left behind on the island), he was disappointed, but not surprised.  He’d known it was a long shot that his team had gotten to the east side of the island in time.  And now that he saw where the plane was located…it was very likely  _impossible_  for his team to get from here to there with the time they’d had.

He just prayed that they hadn’t tried.  Because if they had…

No.  Slade, at least, knew better than to try.  Plus, they had two certified geniuses, two former Ra’s al Ghul's of the League of Assassins, two military vets, and two of the SCPD’s finest.  Between them, they would find a way.  Oliver knew it.  He knew  _them_.

But William didn’t.

When they had found that boat empty, Oliver saw the last trace of hope evaporate from his son’s eyes.  It broke Oliver’s heart.

But William didn’t panic, didn’t cry.  Though, as the minutes turned to hours, Oliver thought tears might help.  But William shuttered up and shut down and now…with every passing moment, the boy’s anger and bitterness grew.  As did Oliver’s certainty that he had  _no fucking idea_  how to be a father.

“Be careful where you step.  Some of the wood is still smoldering.  And don’t step  _under_  anything.”  

Keeping William safe Oliver could do.  That wasn’t so different than dealing with Rene and Curtis, really.  Who knew avoiding danger would be the easiest part of parenthood?  He’d laugh if he wasn’t afraid that he’d end up sobbing.

William stood up straight, rubbing his soot darkened hands on his already filthy pants, his eyes taking in the wasteland that had once been Lian Yu.  “Now what?”

Taking a deep breath, Oliver surveyed the area as well.  The explosions had triggered fires that had burned hard and fast.  Most of the active flames had already burnt out, but almost nothing green remained of Lian Yu.  He’d think it a shame if he didn’t hate this place so much.  Instead, it almost felt appropriate that it had been reduced to blackened tree skeletons and rubble.

It was no longer hell masquerading as paradise.  It was just hell.

“Well, there’s no sign of them here,” Oliver finally said.  “And that’s good because this wasn’t the place we wanted them to be when the explosions went off.”

William scoffed.  Ten year-olds scoff?  “There’s no signs of  _anything_.  Who's to say the fire didn’t just… _disintegrate_  all sign of them?”

Oliver wasn’t sure what worried him more, the anger in his son's eyes or the complete lack of anything else.  Then there were his own demons that Oliver was barely keeping at bay, the fact that every time he turned his head he imagined seeing the broken remains of Felicity’s glasses, a shriveled piece of Thea’s red leather jacket…bodies.

If he found  _anything_ , Oliver didn’t know how he would be able to hold it together.

But, maybe, the only reason he was holding it together now was William.  

No.  There was no maybe about it.  The  _only_  reason Oliver was holding it together  _was_  William.  Plain and simple.

Shaking his head, Oliver tried to at least  _appear_  calm and confident.  “Human bones burn at a much higher temperature than a normal forest fire and they take longer to incinerate.  The fire didn’t last long enough to destroy them completely.”

It took a decent amount of mental effort to keep the images of his family’s bones out of his head.  Not to mention, Oliver kind of hated that he knew that particular fact.  

No, Oliver was grateful.  Because if that knowledge comforted William even a little and kept him from freaking out, wondering if he was standing on the ash that was once…

No… _no_ …he wasn’t going there.  Oliver was  _not going there_.

For a moment, William seemed to just be taking the information in.  But then, his face screwed up and he argued, “That doesn’t mean that their skeletons aren’t half-way between here and the boat.”

God, they say kids were brutally honest, but…Oliver’s stomach felt like it was clamped in a vise as the image of eleven skeletons littering the ground in the middle of what used to be the forest refused to be dismissed.  He had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat.

This couldn’t be the end, Felicity.  It couldn’t.  

For  _once_ , Oliver prayed to God that they  _hadn’t_  listened to him, that they hadn’t tried to make it to that fucking boat.  His team… _Felicity_  was too smart to follow his instructions blindly.  They  _found_  a way.  They had to have.   

Still, it was hard to stay  _here_.  To not be out  _there_  frantically searching, scouring the island inch by inch.   If William weren’t with him…Oliver wouldn’t have stopped moving, he would be running, screaming, searching and, for a moment, he wondered if it was a mistake that he wasn’t.  If staying here and trying to keep William calm wasn’t wasting valuable time.

If Oliver let himself stop to the think about it, the urge to tear this place apart looking for them all was overwhelming.  

But Lyla was on her way.  They had made contact on the boat and, once ARGUS arrived, they would have heat sensors and helicopters and dozens of boots on the ground.  They could cover the entire island a hundred times more efficiently.

So, logically, it made a lot of sense for Oliver to take a few minutes to comfort his son.

What didn’t help was the fact that every time Oliver closed his eyes, he saw his sister at William’s age, carefree and spoiled, staring up at him with misplaced hero-worship in her eyes.  Or Felicity, smiling at him after his birthday party, her lips swollen and red from his kisses and…his need to see them was  _so strong_.  It seemed to be clawing at the inside of his skin.  

William sent another rock flying, this time with a jump kick that sent it careening into the side of scorched metal of the plane.  His face was twisted with torment.  His greatest worry should be losing a little league game or passing his next math test.   This wasn’t fair.  None of it was.

At the moment, Oliver needed to put aside his own needs to a be father.  What would John do if this was JJ?  What would Felicity do?   _God_ , he needed their strength.  Their guidance.

Blowing out a breath, Oliver approached his son.  “William, buddy, you have to have faith—”

“ _Faith_?” William sneered, taking Oliver off guard with the ferocity of his words.  “Faith in  _what_? That life sucks?  Life sucks and then you  _die_.  At least, the  _lucky ones_  die.  The rest of us are left behind.”

Well… _fuck_.  

Oliver didn’t have the first clue what to say to  _that_.  He stumbled over to his son and crouched down in front of him, taking his thin shoulders in his hands.  “William, listen to me.”

William’s jaw clenched and he wouldn’t meet Oliver’s eyes, but he didn't pull out of his grip, so that was something.  But…

Now what?  What would Felicity say if she were here?  She was the one with the gift for words, for inspirational speeches.

“William, there have been lots of times in my life that I thought _exactly_ that.  That life was nothing but darkness and pain.”  Was this something Oliver should be saying to a kid?   _His_  kid?  But Williams eyes finally met his and Oliver took a risk, “There have been times that I  _wanted_  to die.  Times where the only thing that kept me going was a promise I made to  _my_ father before he sacrificed his life for mine.  A promise to survive.”

Oliver had William’s full attention now.  Why wouldn’t he, given the horrible and compelling story he was telling?  God, Oliver hoped he could turn this around and make it something  _other_  than traumatizing.

William looked at him with wide eyes and whimpered, “But…it’s so  _hard_.”  

For the first time, Oliver heard tears in his son’s voice and, even though he was relieved, they made his own eyes burn.

“It is, but here is the thing.  If you keep going, keep  _living_ , eventually, something comes along…something or  _someone_  that makes it all worth it.  It could be a sister or a friend or a woman…” Oliver took a shaky breath and cupped William’s cheek.  “Or a  _son_.”  Tears were thick in his own voice now and he wasn’t sure if it was something he could stop.  “That  _good_ thing, the one that makes it all worthwhile, it’s just around the corner.  You just need to have patience.  And  _faith_.  And keep your eyes open.”

William’s face scrunched up and Oliver worried that he’d said the wrong thing, made it even worse, but then William let out a sob and launched himself into Oliver’s arms.

All Oliver could do was catch him and hold him close and wish that he was getting to hold his son under much different circumstances.  “It’s okay.  It’s going to be okay,” he murmured over and over,  _praying_  that he wasn’t lying as he fought his own tears.  He really didn’t think seeing his father cry could to be all that comforting.

Then static sounded in Oliver’s ear and he jerked back, his heart picking up pace and racing ahead as he held his breath.

“ _Ol…Oli…ver…_ ”

Static was interspersed with the syllables, but Oliver could hear it.  He was almost too afraid to hope.  

“ _Oliver_!”

God, was that _Felicity’s_ voice?

William’s head jerked back and he sniffled, running the back of his hand across his face. “What was that?” he demanded, his voice frantic.

“Shhh,” Oliver quieted, feeling bad for doing so, but…he needed to listen and…

“ _Oliver_?” It was clearer this time and Oliver almost laughed.  Almost  _cried_.  

Thank  _God_!

Looking into William’s anxious eyes, Oliver jammed the button on his chest and swallowed.  “Felicity?”

“ _Oh God, Oliver?  Is that you?_ ”

Oliver heard the very distinctive sound of Felicity bursting into tears over the comm and he laughed.  He laughed and he sobbed and didn’t even care.  “Yeah, yeah, it’s me.  Christ,  _Felicity…”_ He blew out a shaky breath.  “Are you okay?”

Relief had never been so palpable.  And joy.  The… _God_ , he wanted to hold her, but he couldn’t, so Oliver just smiled so wide it hurt and held his son.

“Is that them?” William demanded, his voice equally excited and desperate.  “Is my mom with them?”

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Felicity gasped.  “ _Is that William_?”

And the joy and the relief in  _her_  voice just made Oliver laugh harder.  Out of pure happiness.  It was almost too much.  He cupped Williams face and pressed his forehead to his son’s.  “Yeah, that’s William.”  He gave up his fight against the tears.  He just didn’t care anymore.

“ _Oh wow,_ ” Felicity breathed, then there was a shifting sound over the line and a muffled, “ _Samantha! Oliver has William…I can hear his voice._ ”

William smiled, an actual  _genuine_ smile.  Tears ran down his cheeks and Oliver swiped them away with his thumbs.

There was more rustling and then Felicity’s voice again, clearer this time, “ _Is he okay_?” She was, clearly, relaying the question from William’s mother.  

Smiling at William, Oliver let the relief sink in and, finally, he allowed himself to just  _look_  at his son.  “Yeah.  Yeah, he’s perfect.”

William jerked back at that, giving Oliver a skeptical look and an eye-roll.  It only made Oliver laugh more.  

“Is my mom okay?” William asked, leaning into Oliver’s ear to say it.  Oliver didn’t have the heart to tell him the mic was actually sewn into his collar.

“You hear that?” Oliver asked Felicity.  Though, he couldn’t imagine she hadn’t, as close as William was.

“ _Yeah, I think so,_ ” Felicity replied.  She sounded frenzied and out of breath and so very familiar.  And wonderful.  She sounded  _wonderful_.  “ _Everyone is fine.  Samantha.  Thea_ …” Oliver let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as Felicity anticipated his next question and he mentally kicked himself for not asking earlier.  “ _All of us.  Even Slade and Nyssa.  Some are a little more banged up and freaked out than others.  But, William, if you can hear me, I think your mom just got about a_ thousand _times better_.”

Hearing Felicity address his son for the first time, so casually, filled Oliver with a rush of…just  _emotion_.  He couldn’t believe it.  It was going to be okay.  Felicity and William would meet and be in each other’s lives and…it was too much.  But so incredibly… _wonderful_.  Unbelievable really.

“You hear that, buddy?” Oliver asked, his voice was so raspy that he barely recognized it.

William nodded, putting his chin on Oliver’s shoulder so he could press his ear to Oliver’s and hear Felicity more clearly.  It was the last straw.  Tears slipped free and started to fall freely as Oliver threaded his hand into his son's hair and let the relief…just  _flow_  over him.  He was pretty sure that he felt William’s tears as well.  

“Where are you?” Oliver choked out.  William needed his mom and Oliver  _really_  needed Felicity back in his arms.

Felicity blew out an audible breath.  “Well _…that’s a long story._ ”

For some reason, that made Oliver laugh, too.  He was fully prepared to hear every little detail, gladly,  _happily_ , but for now, he just wanted to find them.  “Just tell me how to get to you.”

“ _Ummm…yeah, that’s the same long story.  I don’t think it will be easy._ ”

Oliver deflated a bit.  So much for having her in his arms soon. But that was okay.  He could wait.  As long as they were okay, he could wait…well, not forever, but a while.  “Felicity, where  _are_  you?” He asked more firmly this time, hoping to circumvent the babble he could hear coming.

“So _, remember the Nexus Chamber you told me about_?”

Oliver remembered all too well.  “Underground?”  His heart skipped a beat and his hands spasmed on William’s shoulders, because  _that_  really didn’t sound like they were out of danger.  He couldn’t help but imagine cave-ins and his friends being trapped beneath the rubble.  “Is that secure?”

He wasn’t even sure how Felicity would know that for sure, but...please, God, let them be secure.  His heart couldn’t take much more of this.

“ _I’d say pretty secure,_ ” Felicity told him, but there was a note in her voice that Oliver didn’t like.  “ _Apparently, Nexus Chambers that exist out of time and space are pretty impervious to things like C4.”_

William pulled back, confusion written across his face.  They probably didn’t have a lot of Nexus Chambers where he’d been living.  

“What's imper…?”

Oliver almost laughed.  “No idea,” Oliver whispered with a half-smile.  He was pretty sure he _did_ know what ‘impervious’ meant, especially in context, but he didn’t think he could define it.

Felicity didn't seem to notice the exchange.  She just continued to ramble on, “ _And can I say_ thank God _you were in a talkative mood when we were in Hub City, because I’m pretty sure this is the_ only _safe place on the island and Slade didn’t…wait, how did_ you _survive?   Where are_ you?”

“Where you just left,” Oliver told her, trying not to think about what might have happened if he hadn't told her that particular story.  When they got back, he was going to make sure Felicity knew every _detail_ of that five years.  Apparently, it could save lives.  “Chase had William on a speedboat.  We were there when the explosives went off.  William and I drove the boat to the shore closest to the plane.” Or what was _left_ of the plane.

“ _Thank God for that_ ,” Felicity gasped and the profound relief in her voice made Oliver smile.  William grinned too as he laid his head back on Oliver’s shoulder.  _“I assume Chase is dead, since the island…well, went kaboom?”_

Flicking a side glance to William, Oliver confirmed, “He's dead.”   He hoped the details could wait.  

_“Well, that's_ one _good thing that came from this.”_

And, while, Oliver secretly found it endearing when Felicity became bloodthirsty (especially, since someone had to be particularly evil to bring that out in her), he wasn't sure that was how he wanted William to see her right off.

But when he looked down, William was nodding.  Yeeeah…Oliver really hoped that this son was as picky with his bloodthirstiness as Felicity was.  

But for now, Oliver needed to find Felicity and Thea and the others.  “I know where you are.   It's not far—”

“ _Yeah, except_ …” Felicity cut Oliver off and he really didn't like her tone as she did so.   _“So that's the not so good news.   The Nexus Chamber wasn't affected by the explosions…like not in the slightest, candles didn't even flicker.  It was kind of creepy, actually_ —”

“Fe-li-ci-ty…” as much as Oliver loved to hear the rambles, there was a time and a place.

“ _Right… the tunnels leading to the Chamber, totally decimated.  Complete cave-in_.”

_Fuck_.  Thank God they hadn't been in those tunnels. “But no one was injured?” Oliver couldn't help but ask again, even though…there wasn’t a damn thing he could do if they were. “Thea?”

“ _No.  Nope,_ ” Felicity rushed to confirm.  “ _We were all safely in the Chamber. So long as you can figure out a way to get us out before dehydration hits, we're all good.  Nyssa says oxygen isn't a problem because of the otherworldliness_ —”

Despite her words, Felicity was starting to sound a little freaked out, so Oliver interrupted, “I was able to radio Lyla.   She's close,  _real_  close, and she's bringing an aircraft carrier.”

Felicity laughed at that, as Oliver had known she would, her relief palpable.   He heard more rumbling, then, “ _Digg, your wife is on her way with a small army.  Or maybe a big one.  How many people fit on an aircraft carrier_?”

There was more rustling and Oliver just smiled.  Then Felicity was back, saying, “ _Digg says ‘Just as long as she brings a big ass drill.’  Oh shoot, is William listening?   Am I not supposed to say as_ s?”

Oliver had no friggin clue, but William was laughing and he looked delighted so what was one  _minor_  swear word?

“Can I talk to my mom?” William asked, but Oliver wasn’t sure if he was asking him or Felicity.

Either way, Oliver asked Felicity, “Did you hear that?”

“ _Uh, yeah, but_ …” Felicity raised her voice. “ _I’m sorry, William, but that’s not as easy as it sounds_.”

“Why not?” Oliver’s forehead wrinkled as his hackles rose.  What wasn’t Felicity telling him?  William didn’t look happy either.

“ _Okay, so…_ ” Felicity took a deep breath and Oliver really wished he could see her expressive face, so he could tell what she was thinking.  “ _The thing about being in a chamber that exists out of space and time is that you don’t get reception on…_ anything _.  So no comm reception_.”

And…Oliver’s heart sort of…had a seizure.  “So how are you talking to me?”  He really didn’t know if he wanted Felicity’s to answer that.

“ _Well, it took a while, but we managed to dig out enough of a tunnel for me to slip inside and try to contact you.  And,_ see, _it worked_!” It was very clear from Felicity’s voice that she expected him to be unhappy with her answer.

She was right.  

“Fe-li-c-ty… _tell me_  you didn’t crawl into an unstable tunnel,” Oliver pleaded, trying to keep the anger and panic out of his voice, for William’s sake.  But so help him, if she was babbling on while about to be crushed by tumbling debris, he was going to…

“ _Weeelll_ ….”

God  _fucking_  damn it!  

“ _Felicity_!” Oliver snapped and William flinched, which was just  _great_ , but, at least, he managed to keep the swearing  _inside_  his head.  He took a deep breath and did his best to modulate his tone.  For his son’s sake.  “Why you?  Slade has a helmet…” And a hard head and…was  _not_  Felicity.

“ _Funny you should mention that…_ ”

“What the…what does  _that_  mean?” And, yeah, not modulating well, but Felicity was hedging and Oliver was about to explode.  

“ _The helmet…_ ”

Felicity trailed off and Oliver frowned in confusion…but then the pieces clicked together and he let out an involuntary bark of laughter.  “Felicity are you lying in a tunnel wearing the Deathstroke mask?”

“ _Maaaybe…”_

And then the laughter really came.  William, who have no idea what was so funny, just frowned at Oliver like he had lost his mind.  He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“ _It’s not funny,_ ” Felicity huffed.  “ _I don’t know how Slade breathes in this stupid thing, never mind fights.   And even with the_ one _eyehole I can’t see a_ thing _, which makes sense since my glasses don’t exactly fit and before you ask, no, no one has a camera.”_

Oliver laughed again and mouthed, “I’ll explain later,” to a confused and slightly irritated William.  

For his part, Oliver was on too much of a high to be irritated at  _anything_.  Chase was dead and gone.  Willian was here and in his arms.  He knew Oliver was his father and accepted him (an _actual_ miracle).  Felicity, Thea, John,  _everyone_ …were all fine.  Safe in an otherworldly magical panic room.

Dear God, had they actually  _won_?

William rolled his eyes, but he placed his head back on Oliver’s shoulder.  He knew it was just to hear better, but Oliver couldn’t say he didn’t love it all the same.

“Get out of there before something falls on you.  Lyla will be here soon and we’ll get you all out,” Oliver voice cracked at the end, surprising him.  He’d thought he was beyond that, that the tears had all dried up, but God, he needed to  _see_  them…see  _her_.  See that they were healthy and whole with his own two eyes.

And as much as Oliver wanted Felicity out of that tunnel, he hated the idea of breaking of contact with the comms.

“ _Thank God! And can we never come back here?_ Ever _.  Now, I understand why you hate this place so much._ ”

Oliver peered out, over William’s head, at what once was at least a beautiful hell-hole.  “Yeah, well, it now resembles a more literal version of hell, so…”

Oh shit, was that something  _else_  Oliver shouldn’t say in front of William?  This was hard.  There were too many things to remember with this parenting stuff.

And the fact that William was nodding his head against him…did that make it better or worse?

“ _I’d say that we should blow the place sky high, but I guess that’s redundant now.  Or, maybe, it’s just an excellent example of ‘be careful what you wish for’.”_

For some reason, Oliver found that incredibly funny, but he might just be delirious at this point.   He just hoped his adrenaline wasn’t dropping yet.  He still needed to get Felicity and the others out of that damn hole.   Though, he had to say, he had never been so glad for magic in his entire life.

Or for her.  

“I love you.”  

It just slipped out.  As easy as breathing.  With absolutely no care for who might be listening.

“ _I love you too_.” Oliver could easily hear the tears in Felicity’s voice and because of the perversity of human emotions, they brought tears back to his eyes as well.

But then Oliver was yanked out of the moment by William pulling out of his arms and…it left Oliver feeling unsettled.  Was William just trying to give them privacy or was it something else…?

Taking a deep breath, Oliver lowered his voice.  “I'll see you soon.  I can't wait to…”  He didn't know how to finish that sentence.  There was too much to say.  Most of which shouldn’t be said in front of his boy.

But Felicity seemed to understand, she always did.  “ _Me too…me too_ ….”

Okay, Oliver was going to have to end this conversation now or he was afraid he never would.  “Now, get  _out_  of that tunnel.   We’ll be there before you know it.”

“ _Aye aye, captain Green Arrow, sir!  I mean, Overwatch out.”_

Then, before Oliver could say anything more, there was nothing in his ear but static.  He missed her voice already.

All right.  Nothing to do now but wait.  

And parent.  

Lord help him.  

“William? You okay, buddy?”

Oliver had no idea what he was expecting, but it wasn't William rounding on him and demanding, “Did you _ever_ love my mother?”

Well,  _fuck_.

So, um, they were starting with the hard questions, then?  

And how the  _hell_  was Oliver supposed to answer _that_?  What had Samantha told William? Was the truth even  _appropriate_  for a ten year-old boy?

Then, as if he could read Oliver's thoughts, William pleaded, “Please, don't lie to me.”  Only it was much more of a demand, than a plea.  “I can tell you're trying to figure out what to say, but the truth doesn't require thought.  It's the  _truth_.  All you need to do is say it!”

Oh, but it was  _so much_  more complicated than that.  Oliver shook his head.  “William…”

The boy let out a snort of pure disgust and turned away.  “I don't know why I thought you'd be any different.  All adults do is lie.”

“William!” The reprimand was instinctual, but…there was so much more to this than a kid being disrespectful.  Oliver softened his tone, trying again, "That's  _not_  true—”

“Then  _prove_  it!” William rounded on Oliver again, this time screaming, “Tell.  Me.  The. Truth!”

“William, I've never lied to you.” How could he?  Oliver hadn’t been around him enough to have the chance.

But William was incredulous.  “When I met you, last year, and you  _didn't_  tell me you were my father  _that_ was a lie.”  

Oh, yeah, that.  Oliver winced.  

“Maybe it wasn’t a straight out lie, but it was  _still_  a lie.  A really big one.”

Oliver pressed his lips together.  If he had learned anything from Felicity in the last year, it was not to argue that one.  It was all semantics anyway.  “That was…complicated.”

“ _Complicated_!” William threw his hands up in the air.  He was good and worked up now. “That's what adults say when they don't want to tell you something.  It's too  _complicated_ ,” he repeated the words in a mocking sing-song.  “I'm expected to multiply fractions and write essays on the causes of the Civil War but  _my_  life is too  _complicated_  for me to understand.”

Well, shit.

Letting out a breath, Oliver…William was right.  This kid had been through more than any ten year-old should.  And that was _before_ he had been kidnapped multiple times.  The least he deserved was some answers.  

“Okay.”

That took the wind out of Williams sails.  He, clearly, wasn't expecting Oliver to agree.  His own, “Okay?” was guarded to say the least.

“Yeah.”  At least, Oliver  _thought_  this was what he should do.  Actually, he'd really like to take a time out and consult Felicity and John because he had  _no idea_  what he was doing.  “But, maybe, this isn't the time—”

William’s eyes flashed.  As if he had been waiting for there to be a catch.  “Actually, this is the  _perfect_  time.  We're stuck here in this ‘ _literal representation of hell’_ ,” Oliver winced as his words were repeated back at him.  “And we have nothing to do until ARGUS arrives,  _but_  talk.”

Okay, this kid was way too smart for a ten year-old.  He must have gotten that from Samantha, because Oliver really didn’t think he was anywhere near that sharp at this age.  

Now what?  Oliver wanted William to like him, to accept him.  He wanted to be a good father.   He just had no idea how.

And there was no one here to guide him.

_Fuck_.

He was going to have to go with his instincts.  That was all Oliver had at the moment.  

Oliver pulled up a log, making sure to check that it was done smoldering before gesturing to William to sit and doing the same with another piece of wood for himself.

William sat across from him, his eyes intense, both hopeful and wary, like he wanted more than anything for Oliver to be different from the other adults he'd met, but wasn't sure he believed it was possible.   

Palms suddenly damp, Oliver rubbed them again on his leather pants, which did nothing but streaked them with soot.  Look at him, the Green Arrow, Mayor of Star City…he'd faced metahumans and Mirakuru soldiers and…fucking  _aliens_ , but an irate ten year-old boy left him terrified.  

Swallowing, Oliver forced himself to speak, “First off, I should warn you…”

Williams face shuttered up tight, fast enough to leave Oliver dizzy.  His son regained that awful blank expression, but there was nothing for Oliver to do but press on.

But a disclaimer was always good, right?  “I don't think I've said more than two words to a ten year-old since my sister was ten and she's a grown woman now, so…uh, maybe, keep that in mind when I say something stupid?”

And…now he was channeling Felicity's babbles.  If Oliver had to channel something, couldn’t it be her insightfulness and not her awkward rambles?

But, somehow, thankfully, it made William relax.   Almost smile, even.  “Well, you’re my first dad, so…you don't have to say the  _right_  thing.  Just tell me the truth.”

Oliver grinned.  William might not be super happy with his mom's relationship with the truth, but he was a pretty great kid, so Samantha must have done something right.

“That's good advice, thank you,” Oliver murmured and William seemed to puff up a little with the praise.   Here went nothing.  “So, what do you want to know?”

William looked like he couldn't believe his luck.  He leaned forward eagerly.  “ _Everything_.  How did you meet my mother?  Where  _were you_  the first nine years of my life?  Did you even know I existed?”

“Ahh…” So, they were jumping right in then.  God, Oliver could sure use the backup right about now.  If there was ever a time he needed Felicity in his ear, guiding him, it was now.  But looking at William…this couldn’t wait.   _Fuck_.  “Okay…so…” Might as well get this part over with, “you asked if I ever loved your mother and the answer is ‘no.’  Sorry, buddy, I didn’t.”

Oliver braced himself for anger and scorn, but William just nodded as if he had expected that answer and asked, “Did she love you?”

It was hard not to laugh at that one, the idea was so ridiculous.  “No,” Oliver answered rather decisively.

But still, William pressed, “Are you _sure_?”

And, now, Oliver was left wondering if there was more to that question than met the eye.  He really didn’t want to be painted as the cold-hearted deserter, while Samantha was pining hopelessly for him.  

But, it didn’t matter, because that wasn’t the truth and William asked for the truth.  

“I’m certain.  We barely knew each other.” William looked, somewhat, surprised by that.  Well, in for a penny…Oliver took a deep breath and launched in, “We met on Spring Break.  It was your mother’s last year in college and I…well, let’s just say I was too immature and too stupid to take college seriously.”

William’s eyes widened and Oliver wondered if, maybe, that was  _too_  honest.  

But there was no turning back now.  Oliver had committed to this story, he was finishing it.  “We met and hit it off and we had a…Spring Break fling.”  Did that even make sense to kid William’s age?  “Do you know what a fling is?”

“I know what  _sex_  is,” William said in an almost condescending tone and it was Oliver’s turn to be shocked.  “I took Sex Ed.  Though they call it something stupid like Family Life Education now.”

“Yeah.  Okay.  Good to know.”  At least, that was  _one_  conversation that Oliver didn’t have to have on his first day of parenthood.  “So, uh…I met your mom and we had fun and, yes, we had sex.” God, Oliver can’t believe he just said that to his grade schooler. Who he _barely_ knew.  “Then we went home.”

“And you never talked to each other again?”

Oliver didn’t know what to make of his tone. Whether William was just surprised or if he didn’t believe it or…something else.  “Well…we didn’t plan to—”

“Why didn’t you use birth control?” And  _that_  shocked the hell out of Oliver.  “Even a fifth grader knows you’re supposed to use birth control.”

Great.  Lovely.  Did  _all_  fifth graders know this?  Or just his?   Oliver ran a hand through his hair.  He didn’t even think  _Felicity_  could help him with this one.  

“Well, we might not have used the smartest method every time.”  Yeah, Oliver was not volunteering that they ran out of condoms and used the pullout method that one time.  “But you’re right, never have sex without a condom.”  Always throw in a teachable moment, right?  That was what good parents did?  “Not that it worked out badly for us,” Oliver rushed to add.  “I don’t think either of us regret having you.”

That seemed like the right thing to say, at least.  William was clearly pleased, even if he was trying to hide it.  But it didn’t stop him from asking (demanding, really), “So did she tell you she was pregnant or not?”

After he said it, William got a terrified look in his eye, like he was afraid of the answer.  Oliver couldn’t blame him, one answer damned him, the other damned his mother. There were no safe answers.

So…the truth, then.  Blowing out another breath, Oliver said, “She  _did_  tell me, but…this is where it gets complicated—”

“Ugh!”  William threw back his head with a groan.

Oliver almost laughed.  “Relax, buddy.  I’m going to tell you.  I’m just warning—”

“That it’s  _complicated_ ,” William repeated with an overdramatic and frustrated sigh.  “I  _got_  it.”

Okay, then.  So much for Oliver’s warning. “Your mom came to Star City…Starling, then…and told me she was pregnant and—”

“You didn’t want a baby,” William predicted.  He was frowning, but he looked resigned to that particular answer, at least.

Oliver wished that the kid had put a little less time into thinking about this.  Though, really what did he expect?  “I…I didn’t feel  _ready_.  I was scared.  I…”  The truth was the only guide Oliver had here, so he had to go with it.  “I…honestly, I didn’t know what to do, but I had  _no_  intention of abandoning you.”  He hadn’t.  Though, he would have been relieved if Samantha wanted an abortion.  But  _that_  was a truth that William never needed to know.

The boy relaxed somewhat, prompting, “So…?”

Apparently, Oliver wasn’t telling the story fast enough.  “ _So_ , I told  _my_  mother and…well, my mother was…”

“Complicated?” William supplied and Oliver laughed.  He was quick, he’d give the kid that.

“Oh yes, she was  _definitely_  complicated.”    William had no idea.  “She was also very rich and thought that meant she should be able to…” Oliver shook his head, it still made him sick to think about it.  “That she should be able to… _arrange_  the world the way she wanted it.  And she was very overprotective, so one of the things she would try to arrange was  _my_  life.” If he didn’t miss her so much, Oliver would be furious just thinking about it. “So…my mother offered  _your_  mother a million dollars to pretend she lost the baby.”

William’s eyes got wide and he gasped. “My mom took  _money_  to say I was  _dead_?!”

Wow…that was just the  _worst_  possible way of looking at it.  But as much as he tried, Oliver couldn’t think of a way to reframe it.

“We’re not even rich!” William exclaimed, bounding to his feet.  “What did she  _do_  with all that money?”

“William, sit down and let me finish the story.” Oliver was surprised that he was able to keep his voice so calm.  And even more surprised when William did as he was told.  “Your mom didn’t take the money, but it did make her decide that she didn’t want you around  _my_  family.  Or me.” And the unfairness of that put a bitter taste in his mouth.  “So, yes, she did tell me she had a miscarriage…”

“So my mom lied to protect me?”

Oliver nodded.  Okay, good, he was getting it. Now…

“Because your mom tried to bribe her to protect  _you_.”

“Essentially.”  Maybe this wasn’t going as well as…

“Overprotective moms  _suck_!!!”

And…alright then.  Now what?

“William…in these circumstances I’m inclined to agree with you, but…” But what?  He couldn’t let the boy hate  _both_  their mothers.  Yet, Oliver had no idea how to fix it.  “The thing is, we forgive them, because they are our mothers and they're doing it out of love.”  Was that okay to say?  Oliver hoped that was okay.

“Weren’t you angry that your mom lied to you?” William’s tone made it clear that he would consider it a personal betrayal if Oliver said, ‘No.’

Oliver swallowed.  “My mother died before I found out, so I didn’t have a chance to be angry at her.”  Oliver’s life might be a whole hell of a lot easier if he had the ability to stay angry with ghosts.

“Oh.”  William seemed disappointed at that.  Maybe he was hoping for someone corporeal to direct his rage at that wasn’t  _his_  parent.  “Did she ever tell you about me?”

“My mom?” Oliver asked, confused now.

“No,  _mine_ ,” William did another one of those eye-rolls.  He was really good at them.  Better than Thea even.  “ _After_  I was born.”

“Ah…” And right back into the minefield.  They were proving even harder to avoid than the ones the Chinese had planted.

“She didn’t, did she?”  Again, William sounded disappointed.

“To be fair, William, I was shipwrecked and everyone thought I was dead for  _five years_.”  Oliver just wished that would be enough of an excuse to stop there.  That William would let it go, because Oliver  _had_  disappeared shortly after he was born.

That was when it hit him.  Even if he  _had_  known about William, Oliver would have missed five years of his boy’s life.

Of course, there was the possibility that if Oliver  _knew_  he was a dad, he wouldn’t have gotten onto the Gambit with Sara in the first place.  Maybe that would have been what he needed to motivate him to stay in school.  Or get a job.  How different would Oliver’s life have been if their mothers’ had never lied to them?  

William gave Oliver a hard look.  “You were shipwrecked in May 2007, right?” He asked pulling Oliver out of that…extremely counterproductive way of thinking.

But…how the hell did William know  _that_!?

“Don’t look so shocked, it’s all over the internet.”  William shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe how naïve adults were.

Oliver could barely believe how naive  _he’d_  been either.  But, more than that, he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that William had not only researched, but  _memorized_  certain facts about him.  “But—”

_Again_ , with the eye-roll.  “Five year-olds know how to work Google, dad.”

Okay, this was too much.  Oliver had been a dad for 3 hours and he was already out of touch.  Not to mention…he really had a  _lot_  to learn about kids.   _This_  kid in particular.

So, Oliver said the only thing he could think of.  “Yes, I was shipwrecked in May of 2007.”

“Well,” William announced as if he had just won.  Maybe he had.  Oliver didn’t even know what game they were playing.  “I was born in November 2006.   _Plenty_  of time for my mom to come to her senses and tell you you had a son.”

So…William had thought about this.  Had he done the math…a  _year_  ago?  Or was he just  _that_  sharp that he’d put it all together just now?

But, really, once Samantha had lied about the miscarriage, why would William think she would change her mind once she held her infant in her arms?  A fragile, defenseless, beautiful baby boy.  No, that made no sense and Oliver knew it, even if William didn’t.

“William, I’m sure your mom—”

“My mom is a  _liar_!”

Oliver reeled back, feeling like he’d been hit.  God, he hoped Samantha hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of  _that_ , because he couldn’t imagine how awful it would feel.  “ _William_ ,” he tried to correct him.  It wasn’t okay to talk about his mother like that, even if…

“She  _is_!” William glared at him as if he were daring Oliver to deny it.  “She lied to you.  She lied to me.  She’s been lying  _everyone_  since the day I was born.”

“That’s…”

Actually, Oliver had nothing.  Everything William said was completely accurate.  As far as Oliver knew, anyway.

“She told me that you were in love and going to get married,” William yelled and, wow, it rivaled Felicity’s loud voice. Oliver winced, but that was more from the words than the tone.  “She said my dad was excited to have a son, but he had died in a boating accident before I was born.  Do you want to  _count_  how many lies there were in there?”

Wow, William was  _sassy_.  

And Oliver, actually, didn’t think Samantha had done a bad job of coming up with a story for William.  It was close to the truth, was designed to make William feel safe and loved.  “I’m sure that the first time she told you that story, she thought I  _had_  died in a boating accident.  The rest…she may have sugar-coated it, but the real truth was too ugly for a kid to hear—”

“I’m not a  _kid_!” William screamed, jumping to his feet again.

Oliver put out his hands in surrender (or to catch William if he tried to bolt). “No, not now.  But back then you were.  You were just a little boy who deserved to believe that he’d had a dad who died loving him.”

Tears were spilling over and running down William’s face.  Oliver didn’t know what to do.  Should he reach for him?  Try to embrace him?  William looked like he’d explode if someone tried to touch him, but…

William was shaking, his fists clenched and his eyes focused off in the distance as he whispered, “ _Every_  kid deserves a dad who loves them.”

Ah crap.  “They do.  And you  _have_  one,” Oliver swore.

William’s eyes flew to Oliver’s and his face crumbled and Oliver wondered if he should tell the boy that he loved him outright.  Could William even  _handle_  that right then?

Before he could decide, William collapsed back onto his log and said, “After I met you last year, I went straight to my mom and I asked her if you were my father.  You know what she said?  She said, ‘No, William, your father is dead.”

Oliver sucked in a breath, because while Williams tone may be mocking and rude…well, that made  _him_  angry.  That William had suspected and Samantha had  _flat out_  lied to his face.  When she  _knew_  that Oliver would  _gladly_  claim him, that he  _wanted_  to claim him…

It set off so many emotions, Oliver didn’t know what to do with them all.   

Had William been disappointed when Samantha denied it?  Had he  _wanted_  Oliver to be his dad?  And,  _God_ , all the trouble that could have been avoided if Samantha had just allowed the truth to come out then.  Everything with Felicity…

Oliver knew that he shouldn’t have lied to Felicity, but if Samantha had never put him in that position…

He was still reeling from  _that_  blow, when William threw out another, “Why didn’t  _you_  tell me?”

With everything going on in his head was it any wonder that all Oliver could get out was a choked, “What?”

“When you first met me, why didn't  _you_  tell me that I was your son?  Why did _you_  lie and say you were my mom’s ‘ _friend_?’” William flat out sneered the last word.

It felt like a trap.  Oliver knew throwing the other parent under the bus was a terrible idea, but, at that moment, he was just angry enough at Samantha and her lies not to care.

Plus, this was the first time William’s anger was fully directed at him and it felt horrible.

It might have been selfish, but Oliver said, “Your mom asked me not to tell you.”  That wasn’t _that_ bad, was it?  Simple.  Truthful.  Not a full-on toss under the bus…

“ _Asked_?”

Okay, Oliver should have known that he wasn’t going to get off that easily.  Also, when was he going to stop underestimating this kid?  He only had two choices now.  Tell the whole truth or save Samantha by bending it.  And look at where bending the truth had gotten him?

Sighing, Oliver confessed, “Samantha told me she wouldn't let me see you if I told you or  _anyone else_  that you were my son.”

And that  _did_  sound bad.  Yup, there you go, Samantha.  Hope, there’s a nice view from under that bus.

This time, when William lurched to his feet, he couldn’t seem to stay still and he paced away from him.  

Oliver let him.  It was a lot to take in.

He half-expected William to declare that he didn't believe him at all, that his mother wouldn't do such a thing.  But Oliver thought William  _did_ believe him and he couldn’t help but think it was no one’s fault but Samantha’s that their son believed a virtual stranger over her.

But, at the same time, Oliver felt like he should at least  _try_  to fix this.  Samantha was his  _mother_.  She loved…she  _adored_  William.  As far as Oliver could tell, William was her whole world and she had given up a lot to raise him and keep him safe.

Those were the reasons (and, maybe, also, Oliver’s own deep seated self-hatred) that he had never allowed himself to be angry at Samantha for asking him to keep the secret in the first place.  He had taken it as his due for his past sins.  

But, Oliver _hadn’t_ deserved that.   _William_  hadn’t deserved that.  And that secret had left all their lives in tatters.

“She was just trying to keep you safe,” Oliver muttered.  He didn't think it sounded very convincing, though.  Apparently, William’s anger was contagious.

“She did a  _damn_  poor job of it!”

“William!” Okay, that was enough.  Anger was allowed, but that was just… _really_  disrespectful. And also…swearing.  Oliver had to figure out a way to contain this.

But William was on a roll.  The last thing he seemed to want was to be contained.  “I was kidnapped by not one, but  _two_  super villains.”  He ticked them off on his hands, completely furious. “The second one, worse than the  _worst_  villain in any graphic novel  _ever_!”

Well, at least William read, that was better than Oliver did at his age.  Wait, were graphic novels the same thing as comic books or were they something different?  Also, Oliver probably shouldn’t tell him that the first asshole who had kidnapped him tried to blow up the  _entire planet,_  not just one island so…

But, crap, Oliver should have said  _something_ , because he lost his chance as William took off again.

“All my mother’s overprotectiveness ever got me was being called a Mama’s boy.  And that was  _before_  she dragged me half-way across the country.  She didn’t even let me say goodbye to my friends, never mind talk to them once we moved.  We didn’t even stop to get my stuff.  Then we were in New Hampshire.  You know what’s in New Hampshire?  Nothing.  Nothing, except cold and snow and people I don’t know and I couldn’t even use my real name!”

William was panting at the end of his rant and Oliver…well, his anger had evaporated under the sheer weight of his guilt.  “None of that was your mother’s fault, William.  It was  _mine_.”  And  _that_  was the truth.    

But the scoff William gave said that  _he_  disagreed.  “The only thing that was  _your_  fault was sending me away where you couldn’t protect me.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped, but before he could pick it back up again, William was back to yelling, “You know what I did in New Hampshire?  By  _myself_?  Because it’s really hard to make friends when you’re the new kid, who isn’t allowed to go anywhere and can’t have kids over because his mother works two jobs and is never home?  I read graphic novels.   _Hundreds_  of them.  I know all the reasons superheroes push their families away and you know what never,  _ever_  works…?”

“I…” Oliver was completely at a loss, his mind spinning.  Was that really what William’s life had been like this last year?

“Pushing them away!” William announced as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and all Oliver could think was, at least, William and Felicity would have a lot in common.  “You know what  _would_  have helped?” Luckily for Oliver, he wasn’t given time to answer.  “If I had a  _picture_  of that fraking psychopath out there,” he pointed toward the boat, “and  _known_  that I was supposed to run as soon as I saw him!”

The boy, apparently, had a lot to get off his chest.  Oliver was completely shell-shocked and, also… “Did you just say  _fraking_?” Oliver didn’t know if that was the only thing he could grab ahold of or if that was just the most shocking thing William had said.

William’s eye widened as if Oliver had just caught him doing something wrong.  “It not a swear!” he declares.  “It’s from—”

“Battlestar Galactica, I know,” Oliver breathed.  Though, he  _wouldn’t_  know if he wasn’t in love with a total nerd.  Or was it geek?  

That seemed to take the wind out of William’s sails and he looked not only impressed, but almost hopeful.  “You know Battlestar Galactica?”

Great, now Oliver wished he’d watched the whole damn series.  “Sorry, I only watched a couple of episodes.” It was a weird-ass show (and kind of triggering) and Felicity had soooo much tv she wanted him to watch and there was only so much sitting Oliver could handle.  “It’s a favorite of Felicity’s.  ‘Fraking’ is a pretty regular part of her vocabulary.”

William seemed impressed by that and…God, what if he liked Felicity better than Oliver?  What if they couldn’t relate at all?  What if William was a nerd/geek too?  

Actually, that would probably be a good thing.  Being a nerd was a whole lot better than…whatever the hell Oliver had been as a kid.  Except he really didn’t want his son thinking he was lame and stupid.

Regardless, Oliver had really hoped that this would redirect the whole conversation to a more pleasant place (he was sure he could remember enough about Battlestar Galactica to hold a conversation.  Evil clones.  High tech robot people.  Destroyed planets or…something)

But William was tenacious (and  _that_  he may have gotten from Oliver).  He just stared with frighteningly intense eyes before quietly asking, “Who decided to send me to New Hampshire?”

Considering William made the place sound like hell on Earth?  That certainly wasn’t a bomb Oliver wanted to jump on.  Should he mention the robot-clones?  Or would trying to redirect him only reignite the rage?

Oliver really thought the latter, so  _again_  he went with the truth.  “After the first time you were kidnapped, your mother and I agreed, that for your safety, you shouldn’t be around me.  In fact, we both thought it best if I didn’t even know where you were.”

“Except, if I were with you in  _Star City,_  I would have known to stay away from …psycho dude,” William argued.  This kid should be a lawyer.  “And if I had say…a  _cellphone,_  I could have called you if I had seen him.  And if I knew self-defense—”

“Okay, I get it.”  Oliver really didn’t know if he could take anymore.  He rubbed his hands over his face.  He’d been completely emotionally beaten down by a ten year-old.   Chase could have taken lessons.  “Sending you away was a bad decision.”  

Though, the caveat to that was William should stay near Oliver from now on, to remain safe, and that made Oliver feel…wow, could he really have this incredible (if surly) kid in his life all the time?

“Damn straight!”

“We need to talk about all this swearing.” Because if William was staying in his life, then Oliver needed to act…parental.  “And yeah…Felicity would agree.  She was pretty pi— _angry_  when we made the call.”

“She sounds smart.  You should have listened to her,” was William’s response.  It came lightening quick as he stood there facing down his father with his arms crossed and a challenging expression painted across his face.  

This was Oliver’s punishment for all those sleepless nights he gave his parents, wasn’t it?  Karma or something.

“I probably should have,” Oliver conceded, because this wasn’t a battle he could win.  He realized right then and there that if he was going to have a battle of wills with his son, he was going to have to make sure it was worth the fight.

But William didn’t seem to expect Oliver to agree with him.  He deflated, slowly shuffling his way back to the log he’d been sitting on before, kicking rocks and twigs as he went.  

When William finally sat, he asked, “So this woman you love...?”  He appeared to be asking the soot on the ground, not Oliver.  “She didn’t  _want_  to send me away?”

“No,” Oliver answered.  It was an easy answer.  Though, looking over William, he felt like there was a lot more to the question than met the eye.  “Actually, she was really angry at me for a long time for that.”  Not to mention lying about his existence in the first place.

William lifted his eyes to look at Oliver and there was a new vulnerability in his eyes.  “Are you sure?  ‘Cause stepsons aren’t something a lot of people  _want_.”

Okay, now  _that_  just broke Oliver’s heart.  And he knew Felicity, who had had more than her fair share of feeling unwanted as a child, would be  _horrified_  at the very idea.  

Falling to his knees in front of William, Oliver took his shoulders.  “I need you to trust me when I tell you, Felicity is  _not_  most people.”  Understatement of the century.  But he couldn’t quite explain why there was no doubt in his mind that Felicity would accept William.  The other way around, however… “She loves with all her heart.  And she will love you  _instantly_.  I can pretty much guarantee it.”

“You can’t know that,” William argued, his voice small and his eyes just a little bit lost.

“I can and I do.  Because I know you and I know  _her_  and Felicity is the most loving person you will ever meet.”  Was he babbling?  Oliver felt like he was babbling.  But he didn’t know how to convince William.  And it was  _so_  damn important.  “And I can tell you already have a  _lot_  in common.”

That finally got a small smile from William.

So, Oliver tried for a joke, “There’s no way Felicity would have gotten that director of SHIELD question wrong.”  That earned him a full on smile. “And she  _hates_  lies.”   _That_ should earn her a _ton_ of points, right?

Respect flashed in William’s eyes and…thank the  _fuck_.  Oliver wasn’t worried about Felicity being a good stepmom (he was certain she’d be better at parenting than he was), but he really needed William to like  _her_.

Then William cleared his throat and sat up tall.  “That’s good, because I am  _not_  going back to New Hampshire."

Oh.  Okay.  Ummm…that wasn't something that they could decide (or that Oliver could promise) without Samantha.

Though…actually…maybe, he was done letting Samantha make unilateral decisions on William’s behalf.  Oliver had rights.  Maybe, he needed to trust his instincts and stop kowtowing to the woman.

“Will—”

“I want to live with you in Star City.”

Wow.  Okay…just  _wow_.

Tears pricked Oliver’s eyes.  He blew out a long breath and went with his instincts, “I want that too.  More than  _anything_ , but I won’t take you from your mother.”  That wouldn’t be fair to any of them.

“We’ll  _both_  move to Star City!” William immediately assured and Oliver was insanely relieved that he wasn’t rejecting his mother outright.  “Neither of us are happy in New Hampshire.  Her job  _sucks_.  Both of them.  Neither of us have any friends.  And in Star City you’re the mayor.  You can keep us safe.”

In theory.  Though, Williams confidence felt kind of great.  Overwhelming, but great.  “I will do everything I can to keep you  _both_  safe, but we still have to talk to your mom—”

“Why?  Her decisions suck!  I think it’s my turn.  _Our_  turn.”

Oliver,  _somehow_ , managed not to laugh.  Buried under that disrespect (which they really needed to get a handle on) William had an excellent point.  “We’ll talk to your mom.”

He was repeating himself, but it was the best Oliver could do under the circumstances.  Which was sitting with his son on a burnt out island while his mother and everyone else he cared about were buried underground in a magical chamber.  Wow, this was quite the life he was bringing his son into.

William didn’t seem particularly happy with Oliver’s answer.  His little forehead scrunched up as he thought it over. God, Oliver hoped he wasn’t plotting anything.  

Finally, William said, “And Felicity.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Oliver nodded, “And Felicity.” Because William identifying her as a potential ally was awesome.  And, also, Oliver had learned his lesson.  No leaving Felicity out of decisions.   _Ever_  again.  “ _Definitely,_  Felicity.”

William nodded.  “She sounds smarter than both of you.”

There was absolutely no holding back  _that_  laugh.  “Well, she’s generally the smartest person in the room.  Felicity is an actual certified genius.”  If Oliver could brag just a  _bit_.

Eyes widening again, William looked impressed…until a flash a fear clouded his eyes.  “Are you  _sure_  she’s going to like me?  I’m really not  _that_ smart.”

Ha!  God help them if William was any  _smarter_.

“Trust me, you can hold your own.”  This kid was too bright for his (and most definitely Oliver’s) own good. “The two of you will be talking circles around me in no time.”  Good Lord.

The roar of a helicopter in the distance pulled both their attentions and Oliver could not even comprehend how much of a relief it was.  Not only because it meant they could finally rescue Felicity and the others, but because it meant this conversation was finally  _over_.  Well, at least it was on hold.  And Oliver had never been so grateful for a reprieve.

Three huge black helicopters circled and William jumped to his feet, awe written all over his face.  Oliver pulled him out of the way and felt a little of that awe himself as William leaned back against his chest.

When a helicopter finally landed in the clearing in front of them, William gaped, “They’re real.  They’re  _really_  real!  And  _here_!”

Oliver chuckled at his tone, but, maybe, it was just because of the overwhelming relief he felt at seeing Lyla emerging from the copter in full ARGUS gear.  

“I told you.   _Faith_.”  Oliver had to raise his voice to be heard over the helicopter.

Lyla made a beeline for them, her face drawn and worried.  Yeah, her and John were going to be fine.  “Any news?”

The other two helicopters landed and operatives started to pour out as Oliver explained the situation to Lyla, who listened with surprisingly few snide comments about why she hadn’t been called the moment John was taken.  

“I think we have the equipment we need on the aircraft carrier,” Lyla told them, reaching for her communicator.

William, who had been watching the entire exchange with his eyes wide as saucers, waited for her to be done radioing in before he gasped, “Are magical caves like  _normal_  for you?”

“Unfortunately,” Lyla drawled.  Then she turned her full attention to William and, immediately, her entire demeanor softened, the ARGUS director persona falling away and, suddenly, she was just his best friend’s wife.  A mom.  For some reason, it made Oliver’s eyes burn.  “Hello, young man.  You must be the William I’ve heard…well, not  _nearly_  enough about.”

Oliver managed to refrain from rolling his eyes at the dig as William nodded eagerly, looking completely star-struck as he took Lyla’s offered hand.

“There are a lot of people down there very eager to meet you.  How about we go get them out?”

Again, William just nodded, the very articulate boy of a few minutes ago seemingly speechless.  Lyla gave him a smile before turning and going back to direct her troops.

“Dad?” William murmured as soon as Lyla was out of earshot.

And,  _God_ , how long would it be before that word stopped causing a shot of pure feeling straight to Oliver’s heart?  “Yes, son?” His voice was way rougher than he would have liked.

“You know when you said I needed to have faith, because when things are really bad, something good comes along to make it worthwhile?”

“Yeah.”  Though, Oliver was kind of amazed that William did.  It was humbling how closely he was listening and taking things in and, also, a little bit terrifying.  

William turned and looked up at Oliver, the same hero-worship Oliver had seen when he looked at Lyla (and her helicopters with the huge ARGUS logo) still in his eyes.  Wow, that was going to be a lot to live up to.

“Well, dad, I think you’re my thing.   _You’re_  my thing.”

It took everything Oliver had in him not to cry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a really short one, guys.  Thank you to everyone who has showed me support in the last week or so, it has meant so much to me!
> 
> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Emmilyne


	7. Rest(less)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logically, Felicity knew that Oliver wasn’t going to be able to rescue them right away.  They were _underground_.  Under God only knew how many feet of _solid_ rock.  

What did Felicity expect Oliver to do, dig to them with his bare hands?  It wasn’t like he carried a drill arrow or a laser arrow or...that would be cool, actually.  She needed to put that one (both of them, as a matter of fact) in her idea folder to chat with Cisco about later.

But for _now_ , they would all just have to wait for Lyla and her team to arrive and find a safe way to extricate all of them.   

They were coming.  It was going to take a while.  And that was _okay_.  Fine.  Good, even.  

No one was seriously hurt.  They were hungry and thirsty and tired, but all things considered, they were in pretty good shape.  Felicity should just relax and get some rest like every other sane (and borderline sane) person in this room.

Initially, Felicity would have said that she was perfectly fine with waiting.  She would have said that the sound of Oliver’s voice, the warmth she heard when he was talking to his son, the emotion that rang clear when he told her that he loved her…that those things were _enough_.  

_More_ than enough, they were… _everything_.  

Before they were able to get the comms to work, Felicity would have said that all she needed was to have Oliver and his son alive and unharmed.  It was all she’d dared to hope for.

And Felicity still maintained that that was the most important thing.  Absolutely.  She was _so_ grateful.

Oliver was topside with William, both of them safe and getting along (it sounded that way anyway) as they worked to rescue them.  Everyone else Felicity cared about was safe and sound in this magical room (well, except her mom, who thank _God_ , hadn’t been close enough to Oliver in the last year to be targeted.  It was the one good thing that had come from Felicity shutting her mother out recently).  

Felicity should be content.  Grateful.  They had been so _very_ lucky.  The least she could do was be _patient_.  So what if it took a few more hours for her to be able to hold Oliver in her arms?  She knew it was coming.  She wasn’t a child.  She could wait.

So why did Felicity feel, with every passing second, more and more like she was going to crawl _out of her skin_?

As soon as they had made contact with Oliver, Rene had announced that he was getting some ‘shut-eye,’ since he couldn’t remember the last time he slept.

It was a good idea.  Logical.  An excellent plan, really.  They had nothing better to do, why not sleep?  They were all exhausted, from the trauma and the fighting and the digging a hole in a collapsed tunnel.

Rene fell asleep almost instantly.  Must be the military training, because it was like he just shut off a light.  Soon the others recognized the wisdom of the plan, the adrenaline crash and lack of sleep catching up to them.  

One by one the rest of the team joined him.

Even Samantha, who had sworn she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) sleep until she saw her son, was curled into a ball against the wall, snoring softly.  

Though, Nyssa…Felicity wasn’t sure if Nyssa was sleeping or not.  She was standing up against a pillar, arms crossed and eyes closed.  Felicity found it hard to believe that anyone could sleep like that, but it could be a weird league thing, who the hell knew?

Curtis tried valiantly to stay up with Felicity, but eventually his games and methods of keeping them distracted and awake had just gotten annoying and Felicity (and everyone else) had begged him to stop and try to sleep.

So, she was stuck here, the only one awake.  Apparently, Felicity’s adrenal glands were malfunctioning, because while everyone else’s adrenaline had crashed, hers just kept pump, pump, pumping that adrenalin.

Yup, still going strong.  While they slept, Felicity _paced_ , her brain racing, anxiety…no, anxiety wasn’t the right word.  She wasn’t _worried_ or afraid anymore.  She had complete confidence in Oliver and Lyla and ARGUS and this magical panic room.

But Felicity was… _restless_.  Her body absolutely refused to shut down until she saw Oliver.

Hearing his voice, knowing that he was okay wasn’t enough.  Not this time.  She needed to _see_ him with her own eyes.  Touch him.  Hold him.  There was no way Felicity was going to be able to sleep without Oliver.

Which…Felicity didn’t mean the way it sounded…

Actually, you know what?  She meant it _exactly_ the way that sounded

Felicity didn’t want to sleep without Oliver _next_ to her.   _In_ her bed.  Or _their_ bed, she wasn’t picky.  With or without sex (preferably with).  Tonight and _every_ night.

Frak, all those stupid steps!

Felicity was so _done_ with steps!  

She was done with dragging her feet and building walls and protecting her heart.  What good had _any_ of they done her?  All those precautions and pushing him away...Felicity still would have been devastated if Oliver hadn’t survived this.  Completely, unrecoverably crushed.

All any of it had gotten her was wasted time.

And just as Felicity decided that she was done wasting time…here she was.  Stuck in a hole.  In the ground.  With no tech and nothing to do but… _waste fraking time_.

“Making yourself dizzy isn’t going to get him down here any faster, girlie.”

The low accented voice made Felicity jump.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only person awake after all.  But Felicity had no desire to justify herself to Slade _fraking Wilson_.  Especially, when he made her embarrass herself by leaping into the air and clutching her chest like a…like a scaredy cat-person.  (She really had thought she was the only one awake.  Otherwise, she would have at least _tried_ not to pace in a circle like a lunatic).

“Not all of us can do a perfect impression of a statue,” Felicity hissed back, softly because everyone else was still asleep and it was just rude to wake them up.  And, unlike Slade, she was _not_ rude.  Usually.

Slade cracked his one eye open (which, hopefully, meant he hadn’t seen her startle like a frightened deer).  “Are you referring to me or the amazon warrior over there?”  He gestured his chin toward Nyssa, whose twitching lips proved she was awake as well.

“Nyssa isn’t the one irritating me at the moment,” Felicity snapped (again, _quietly_ , ‘cause still not rude).

Shrugging and showing not even the slightest sign of being anything but amused, Slade drawled, “I’ve gotten pretty used to holes in the ground.  When you don’t have a lot of room to move, you get pretty good at sitting still.”

Why that made Felicity come over and plop down next to him, she‘d never know.  It certainly wasn’t because she felt bad that Slade had been stuck in that hole for the last three years.  As far as she was concerned it was 60 years too little.  

Maybe it was because holding a conversation across the room was eventually going to wake someone up and just because Felicity was a neurotic who couldn’t sit still didn’t mean everyone else shouldn’t rest. Besides, interrogating Slade Wilson seemed like a better outlet for her pent-up energy than wearing a path in a centuries old solid rock floor.

Felicity rested her elbows on her folded knees and leaned toward him.  Fixing Slade with her best glare, she hissed, “Why are you doing this?”

Slade’s eye slipped closed again.  “Napping?”

Great, now he was going to _try_ to be irritating.  “Helping us,” Felicity barked.

Shrugging, Slade answered without opening his eye, “Your Oliver’s a persuasive man.”

Felicity scoffed.  “You swore to destroy him,” she reminded Slade, because she remembered _that_ quite well, even if he didn’t.

Sighing, Slade frowned, whispering, “That was the Mirakuru.”

_Now_ he was going with the Mirakuru defense?  After _three_ years?  Felicity remembered, in _technicolor,_ exactly how Slade had done his best to kill Oliver _after_ Felicity had injected him with the cure.  It wasn’t a night she would ever forget.  Not a second of it.  

“You expect me to believe that you’re suddenly over Oliver being responsible for the death of the love of your life?  After everything?”

A cloud passed over Slade’s face, but his one eye remained closed.  “Oliver loved Shado too.  Maybe, not like I did…” He swallowed, his jaw ticking before he finally opened his eye and met Felicity’s.  “It was an impossible choice, as horrible as the one I gave him with his mother.  I can’t even imagine how Oliver made it.”

“He didn’t.”  Felicity stated it calmly, as a challenge.  Then she waited, watching Slade to see what he would do.  But he just looked at her, his eye trained to hers, so she continued, “Oliver refused to choose.  Ivo went to shoot Sara and Oliver tried to take the bullet himself, so Ivo shot Shado instead.”

Slade’s stare grew harder with every word.  His voice was barely a whisper, as he asked, “Oliver tell you that?”

Slowly, Felicity shook her head, watching Slade’s every expression.  She saw pain on his face.  Guilt.  But no rage.  “Sara did.”

Slade stared for another full minute before nodding and letting out a breath, his eye finding the ceiling.  “Kid did much the same with his mother and sister.”

Felicity frowned.  She didn’t know how she was supposed to be buying this.  “You really _do_ expect me to believe that you have forgiven Oliver for Shado’s death?”

Blowing out another breath, Slade’s eye fell closed once more.  “I don’t expect you to believe anything, Ms. Smoak.  But I can assure you that I am well aware of that fact that Oliver’s transgressions pale next to mine.”

He was remarkably convincing.  Felicity wasn’t surprised that Oliver believed him, not with their history.  Oliver was an incredibly loyal man.  He would _want_ to give Slade another chance, to believe that he had changed.  

But Felicity owed it Oliver…to _all_ of them to be…more discerning.  This couldn’t be another Black Siren.  

“So, eight…ten months after you were imprisoned, when Oliver and Thea traveled here to this island and Malcolm Merlyn let you out of your cell so that you would try to kill them and you _did_ …was that _still_ the Mirakuru?  Or did you have your sudden change of heart _after_ that?”  And if Felicity’s voice sounded accusatory… _good_.

Slade’s eye flew to hers and it was…it was wide and confused.  “I have no idea what you are talking about, Ms. Smoak.  The last time I saw Oliver was the day he imprisoned me.”  

And…either Slade was an Oscar worthy actor or…he really had _no idea_ what Felicity was talking about.

But Felicity was _not_ ruling out that golden statue just yet.  Her face scrunching up, she made sure that Slade _knew_ that she didn’t believe him (even though, she was kind of starting to).  

“It was the winter after your rampage on Starling.”  Slade winced as she said it.  Hmmm.  “And Malcolm Merlyn, you know the guy who…” Felicity lowered her voice further and glanced across the room at Thea, who was, thankfully, sound asleep on Digg’s shoulder.  “The archer who just got himself…” Felicity mimed an explosion. “Ka-ploo…”

She could see the exact moment that recognition dawned in Slade’s eyes.  “The white man in the league clothing?”  Felicity nodded.  “Yes, he was there.  Though, he was dressed differently.  Asked me a few questions about Oliver.  Didn’t seem to like the answers and…the next thing I knew I was beaten and bloody on the floor of my cell.  I figured ARGUS had designed a new experimental drug and I was their lab rat, but…never happened again.”

Well… _frak_.  

Felicity blew out a breath and looked back at Thea.  Frak a duck.  It was impossible not to believe Slade now, not when that was _exactly_ Malcolm’s MO.  Mind control drugs and manipulation.  It was _so_ Malcolm Merlyn circa 2015.

God _damn_ him!  Malcolm made Robert Queen and Noah Cutter look like candidates for father of the year.  Poor Thea.  Felicity was glad he was dead.  At least, he couldn’t do her friend any more damage.   _And_ his last act was a noble one.

Leaning toward Slade, Felicity whispered, “Thea can’t know.”  Even as she said it, Felicity felt terrible.  She knew how much the younger woman hated being lied to.  “If…if it comes up…if it’s _important_ , we’ll tell her, but…right now, her grief is complicated enough without adding another of Malcolm’s sins.”  

But when Felicity looked back at Slade, he had his one visible eyebrow up, still confused.

“Malcolm just sacrificed himself for her.” When Slade still looked baffled, Felicity gestured to Thea, whispering, “He’s her secret father, remember?  Weren’t _you_ the one who told Thea that?!” Because, seriously?  What the hell?

Felicity was getting annoyed again.  Because now that she thought about it, she remembered a huge crap-storm resulting from Slade telling Thea that Malcolm was her father.   _After_ kidnapping her.  Yeah, _and_ it had pretty much resulted in them losing Queen Consolidated.  

Finally, Slade’s eye widened in recognition.  “ _That_ Merlyn?” Now, _he_ looked incredulous.  “ _Her father_ sent me to kill her and Oliver?”

Felicity shook her head, not even able to believe the entire tangled web of… _insanity_ that was their lives.  Her eyes instinctively went back to Thea.  Irritation with Slade warred with anger at Malcolm…no, you know what?  Malcolm won, hands down.  That Asshat couldn’t blame Mirakuru and he was Thea’s _father_.  He was one _sick_ son of a bitch.  It was easy to forget _how_ sick with someone like Chase around.  

“Yup.  Though, honestly, I don’t think Malcolm expected you to win.” Felicity wasn’t sure if that made it any better.  

Actually, she was sure.  It didn’t.

“Ah.”  Slade nodded.  “I was a _test._  For Oliver.”  It wasn’t a question.

“And Thea.  Though, a training exercise is probably more accurate…” Yup, sick son of a bitch.

Slade whistled, low.  “That is one _sick_ son of a bitch.”

Felicity almost chuckled.  She _did_ smile.  Though, why it was amusing to find that Slade Wilson could read her mind.  Looking back at him, Felicity realized…she _believed_ him.  

_This_ was the man Oliver had described living with on Lian Yu that first time.  But…

She also remembered, very clearly, the hell Slade put them through.  Remembered being held captive by him.  Remembered his sword at her throat.  Felicity remembered Moira Queen’s funeral, remembered finding Oliver, broken and alone, because he couldn’t make himself attend.

“You were the first man to hold a sword to my throat.”  Felicity wasn’t about to let Slade forget that.

But Slade’s lip just quirked up.  “ _You_ were the first woman I’ve ever underestimated.  And the last.”

Well…rational or not, _that_ made Felicity feel better.  “You weren’t the last man to underestimate me.” And, maybe, she was a tad smug.  “And I doubt you’ll be the last.”

Slade raised his eyebrow, a full grin forming.  “You’re Oliver’s secret weapon, aren’t you?”

Felicity shrugged.  It might be petty, but it felt good to hear.  Especially after all Slade’s dismissive comments about her, three years earlier.  She had never forgotten how he had said she wasn’t Oliver’s type, how he’d mocked her and said he had thought Oliver had better taste, liked stronger women.  She’d hated how Slade’s words had eaten at her.

It had been particularly painful so soon after Oliver’s fake confession of love.  Even if Felicity _now_ knew that it wasn’t fake after-all.  At the time, it had been horrible.

All in all, Felicity saw no need to be modest now.  “Oliver has called me that.”

Chuckling, Slade shook his head.  “And to think I didn’t think you were his type.”

_That_ took Felicity off-guard.  “I’m not.”  She was very aware of that fact.  Or at least, she wasn’t Oliver’s old ‘type.’  His type now…well, that was _her_.   _Only_ her.  Thank you _very_ much!

But before…tall, leggy, sophisticated, just a little dangerous.  Brunette.  That _had_ _been_ Oliver's type.   Laurel.  Helena.  McKenna. (Even the Dragon Lady.  Though, that certainly made her nauseous to think about).

“My dear, you are _exactly_ Oliver’s type.” And Felicity frowned, but it was mostly for show, because she was lapping up Slade’s words like honey, even if she didn’t particularly want to.  “Strong.  Beautiful.  Always ready to tell him when he’s being an idiot.  A bit too much on the self-righteous, overly heroic side.”

Felicity didn’t know if she was supposed to blush or be annoyed.  

It was really hard to be annoyed.

Then Slade’s eye found a distant point and he murmured, “My Shado was like that.”

So… _definitely_ blush, then.  Felicity had a feeling that being compared to Shado was Slade’s highest compliment.  But still she asked, “Is there a compliment buried in that insult or an insult buried in that compliment?”

Slade seemed nothing but pleased with her deflection, unfortunately, smiling until his eyes crinkled.  “Neither.  Just stating facts.  Oliver chose well.  Or maybe not.”  His eye again found Nyssa across the room.  “Why is he married to _her_?”

Nyssa’s lips curved up in an amused smile.  Undoubtedly, she’d been listening to the entire conversation.

Felicity rolled her eyes.  “ _That_ ,” she raised her voice just enough to make _sure_ Nyssa heard her, “was Oliver playing nice with the former Ra’s Al Ghul to keep Starling from being destroyed.  Again.  As annoying as it is, it isn’t a real marriage.  It’s not legal outside of the League.  Which has been disbanded, by the way.”

Looking over at Nyssa, Slade considered this.  “ _She_ seems to think it’s real.”

That earned him a sharp laugh.  Felicity just wasn’t able to hold it in.  “Nyssa has less interest in it being a real marriage than Oliver does.   _She_ just finds it amusing.”

Nyssa’s smile grew, though her eyes stayed closed.  “It is a satisfactory business arrangement.”

Whatever.  “I’m pretty sure she’s still in love with Sara,” Felicity told Slade, mostly to rib her boyfriend’s not-wife.

“Sara Lance?” Slade seemed surprised.

Felicity nodded as Nyssa decided to join the conversation, saying bitterly, “The League would not allow me to marry my beloved.”

“Will it allow you to divorce mine?” Felicity threw back, without stopping to think.  Then she cringed, since that was…admitting a lot.  Especially since their new relationship was still measured in days, if not hours.

But Nyssa just shrugged.  “It involves cutting off all my hair.”

“I can help,” Slade offered and Felicity was oddly touched by his loyalty.  Though, she was certain it was to Oliver and not her.

Nyssa ignored the jibe.  “There is no need to worry.  My marriage need not interfere with yours.  The League allows for many wives.  As long as you are a man.” She may have sneered the last part.

Wonderful, now, Felicity was a part of Nyssa’s LGBTQ rebellion.  Which would bother Felicity less if there was anyone alive for Nyssa to be rebelling _against_.  Her father was long dead.  The League was _disbanded_ for frak’s sake!

“Does Sara have anything to say about this?” Slade asked, still seeming rather bemused with the whole thing.

It was a good question and Felicity leveled her eyes on Nyssa.  “Well, Sara _was_ dead when the so-called wedding happened.”

“Was?”

Poor Slade, Felicity almost felt sorry for him.  Actually, naw…with great relish she told him, “Yup.  Buried for almost a year.  Resurrected.  And, now, Sara’s busy traveling through time.  The last time I saw her, we were battling aliens so we didn’t have time to discuss the fake marriage between our respective exes.”

The look on Slade’s face was priceless.   “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little,” Nyssa answered for her.

Felicity just grinned and nodded.  This was fun.  Much better than pacing.

“I’ve missed—”

Before Slade could finish his sentence, there was a loud crash near one of the tunnels that grabbed _everyone’s_ attention.  Felicity wasn’t the only one to jump to their feet, but she was the only one Slade had to restrain from rushing toward the cascade of rock falling from the ceiling.

“You’re supposed to be the smart one,” Slade snapped, his voice low.  “We need to _stay clear_.”

Felicity glowered at Slade from over her shoulder and pulled from his grip, but…she might not want to admit it, but he was right and the rainstorm of rock and dirt falling from the ceiling proved it.  The rest of the team (all awake and alert now) scrambled back.

But if this took long, Felicity was pretty certain she was gonna implode.  Her fingernails dug into her palms until they left marks.  She tried counting backward from a hundred, but kept losing count.

This was _completely_ insane.  Felicity was being ridiculous.  She would be out of this hole any minute now, be with Oliver soon enough.

Was there such a thing as soon enough?  

A final piece of rock fell from the ceiling in a large, _loud_ , chunk, pieces scattering.  Then Felicity could see a light from above and lurched forward, but Slade’s hands were back, restraining her easily.

“Let me _go_ ,” Felicity hissed, yanking at his grip.

“I’m not dealing with Oliver if he comes down here and finds you knocked out from fallen debris,” Slade muttered in her ear.

Felicity grunted, but stayed back as Digg stepped forward, a hand up and over his head (did he really think _that_ was going to save him from falling rock?)   When John finally got under the newly formed hole he looked up and a smile stretched across his face as he called up, “Hey, man, what took you so long?”

John laughed at something Felicity couldn’t hear.  Though, as it turned out, she couldn’t hear much of anything.  White nose started to hum in her ears as her heart rate sped up and…

And then, Oliver was falling from the sky, still in full Green Arrow gear, covered in soot and dirt and dried blood and looking fraking _gorgeous_ as he slid down the heavy cable.

_No one_ could hold Felicity back then.  She wasn’t sure if Slade tried or not, but…

“ _Oliver_!”

Throwing herself into his arms felt like déjà vu all over again.

Felicity’s arms flew around his neck and she tried not to cry as his left arm wrapped around her back and his chin leaned forward to rest on her shoulder.  

Just for a moment.  

It was _always_ only a moment that Felicity got.  Before Oliver had to pull back and address the others.  This was a dance they’d danced many times.  His right hand was always holding something, usually his bow, his left hand pressed over her back and...

Felicity _knew_ that she only had a few seconds to breathe in the leather and the sweat and the _Oliver_ …to clutch at him to reassure herself that he had survived.  Again.  It was never really _enough_ time.  To let the relief and love wash over her.   Never enough, but she always made do.  Accepted it with grace, knowing she was lucky to have these few moments that were all hers.  All theirs.

But this time…

This time was different.

It took Felicity almost a full minute to realize it.  Time was hard to grab a hold of what with the pounding of her heart, and his heart, and the blood rushing in her ears…but this time…this time Oliver didn’t let go.

He dropped the rope and banded both arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground until only the tips of her toes grazed the floor, pulling her fully against him, making Felicity whimper and bury her face further into Oliver’s neck.  

She reveled in the feeling of his short beard rubbing against her face and his lips pressed, hard, against her temple.  Felicity curled her fingers into the straps of his quiver and pulled Oliver to her tighter, not letting herself think about whether it was fair or selfish of her to monopolize him like this.

Instead, Felicity whispered against Oliver’s neck, her voice thick and heavy, “Can we not do this again?   _Ever_?”

Oliver didn’t answer directly, just turned his face further into her neck until it was hidden completely by her hair and breathed into her ear, “Felicity, I…I have _never_ been so terrified.”  

And, of _course_ , that started her crying.  Which was unfair and probably silly but, God, it _had_ been terrifying and she was so relieved and, at the moment, having him there felt like a fraking miracle.   

Pressing one more hard kiss to her temple, just above her ear, Oliver pulled back, cupping her face in his gloved hands, and whispering so quietly that Felicity could barely hear him, “Are _you_ okay?”

It was a complicated question with a complicated answer, but Felicity’s throat closed up and all she could do was nod.  He was there.   Maybe, that was the only ‘okay’ she needed.

Oliver nodded as well and Felicity could see that his eyes were red and she was pretty sure that it wasn’t just from smoke and exhaustion.  He pressed one of those lingering kisses on her forehead, the kind that told her that that wasn’t where he wanted to kiss her at all.

Felicity wondered why Oliver didn’t kiss the way he so obviously wanted to.  She could only imagine that it was because of their audience, but that had been quite the display even without a kiss on the lips.  And it warmed Felicity to insane degree that he had indulged in it.

When Oliver finally pulled back, Felicity let him go, still reeling (in a very pleasant way).  It had already been _so much_ more than she expected.  

Oliver’s eyes locked with his sister and he breathed, “Thea…”

Felicity tried to step out of the way to allow Thea to rush into her brother’s arms, but Oliver’s left arm just banded tighter, not allowing her to leave his side.

Thea didn’t seem upset, though, that she’d have to share.  She just flashed Felicity a warm smile as she approached.  “Hey, big brother.”  She cupped his face and kissed his cheek before Oliver enveloped her in a one armed hug.  

Even with one arm, Oliver’s hugs were pretty awesome.  Felicity could attest to that.

But it was still a little odd.  Since Oliver didn’t let Felicity go, he effectively forced them into a three-way hug…

Not that Felicity was complaining.  At all.  And Thea sent her another rather adorable, if knowing, smile as she laid her head on Oliver’s opposite shoulder.

Felicity turned her face into his chest and closed her eyes, just letting the relief seep into her bones as Oliver exchanged quiet words with his sister, then he turned to check on every member of the team in turn.  He was a good leader that way.

She became very grateful for the strong arm around her waist, because with the relief came a wave of exhaustion that made Felicity dizzy.  She was left wondering how long her legs were going to hold out.  

Then, in the middle of a conversation Felicity was barely paying attention to, two words rang out.

“Where’s Malcolm?”

Felicity’s eyes jerked up, the exhaustion quickly taking a backseat as she met Thea’s wide and distressed gaze.

Across the expanse of Oliver’s wide chest, Thea hissed, “You didn’t tell him?”

“When would I have done that?” Felicity asked rather defensively.  Though, to be honest, she had completely forgotten about Malcolm when Oliver asked if they were all okay.  Did that make her a bad person?

Oliver’s hand clenched at Felicity’s waist, but his concerned gaze was fixed on his sister.

But Thea had, instantaneously, closed down.  Completely.  Arms crossed.  Eyes pressed tightly shut.

Felicity really wished she’d found a minute to tell Oliver before.  Leaning forward, she whispered to, “Thea stepped on a landmine and Malcolm took her place.”

“Rather violently,” Curtis chose _that_ moment to interject.  Felicity’s eyes flew to him with a strong glare and Curtis’ face scrunched up with appropriate remorse.

Oliver tensed, his eyes flying from Felicity to his sister and questioning gently, “Thea?”

His sister put up a hand and turned away, stepping away to give herself space as she grunted a short, “He’s gone.”

Oliver turned to Felicity and met her eyes, murmuring, “Are we sure?”

Felicity winced, whispering back, desperately trying to keep her words too low for Thea to hear, “If by some miracle, Malcolm survived that landmine, I can’t imagine he survived the other explosions.”

Nodding, Oliver turned his eyes back to his sister, more specifically the back of her head.

On impulse, Felicity popped up to her toes and said, softly, in Oliver’s ear, “She’s not okay.”

Jaw clenching, Oliver nodded again.  He squeezed Felicity’s waist one more time and turned his face to whisper for her only, “Don’t go far,” before releasing his hold on her.

It filled Felicity with warmth (which she felt kind of guilty for given the pain her friend was in) as she watched Oliver approach his sister and pull her into his arms.

Thea gave a token protest, but Oliver persisted, murmuring, “Hey, hey, come here.”  He tucked Thea under his chin and cupped the back of her head and, maybe, watching them filled Felicity with a different sort of warmth.  One that said ‘family.’

For the first time, Felicity realized that the entire time she had been having her reunion, the others hadn’t just been sitting and watching.  John was holding on a whole conversation with his wife through the hole in the ceiling.  And, _thankfully_ , most of their audience was more concerned with that conversation than hers, which made sense since _that one_ was the one that was going to get them the hell out of there.

It also made Felicity feel a lot better about monopolizing Oliver, if they were making progress without them.

John turned to Oliver, cord clutched in his hand, “Ready to get this show on the road?”

“More than,” was Oliver’s answer, still holding Thea gently.

“Rene, why don’t you go first?  Then we’ll send up Samantha…”

John continued to call out instructions, but Felicity’s attention wandered back to Thea who sent Felicity another small smile as she stepped out of her brother’s arms.  

She was caught off guard by Oliver grabbing her hand and pulling her close again.  He was being extra clingy.  It was nice.  Felicity turned and smiled up—

“Hey! _Whoa_!” John’s loud yelp pulled all of their focus.  Felicity’s eyes flew over as a shocked John threw up his arms just in time to catch William as he flew down the cable.  “What the…?!”

“ _William_!” Lyla’s furious voice echoed down the makeshift tunnel and around the large chamber.  “I _told_ you to stay—!”

But Lyla was quickly overpowered by Oliver’s roar, “What do you _think_ you’re doing!?  William, I told you to _stay_ up there!”

The boy ignored his father completely.   _And_ the director of the scary top-secret government agency.  Both of which took gumption.  

Pushing away from Digg, William’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“William!” Samantha stepped forward.

“Mom!” William yelled, running into her arms.

Samantha laughed, crying as she caught and clutched her son to her.  “Don’t feel bad, Oliver,” she told him tearfully, her cheek pressed to William’s hair.  “It’s not you.  William turned ten and decided that when an adult tells you what to do, it’s a suggestion, not a command.”

But despite her words, Samantha was smiling, rocking William back and forth like a child much younger than he was.  Dear _God_ , William was almost as tall as his mother.

This was _not_ a little boy.

Wow.  Oliver had a kid.  

Not a baby.  Or a little boy.  He had a... _young man_ , who took commands as suggestions and looked like he was going to be taller than his mother ( _and_ Felicity) like… _any_ time now.  It was, um, rather overwhelming.

Oliver stomped over to stand under the hole in the ceiling.  He didn’t let go of Felicity’s hand, though, so she was just kinda jerked along with him.  Which was fine, cool even, but it was strange behavior for Oliver, especially in such a Green Arrowy situation.  Quite a few people here had never seen them like this.  All couple- _y_.  Not the least of whom was his son and that, maybe, made it a little bit awkward.

That didn’t mean it kept Felicity from feeling all tingly inside, though.

Turning his head up, Oliver yelled an incredulous, “Lyla!”

“He’s slippery, Oliver.” Felicity followed his gaze to see a _very_ unhappy Lyla, shaking her head.  “Trust me, heads are going to roll up here, but…that’s, _definitely_ , your kid.”

Oliver frowned, but Felicity had to bite back a semi-hysterical laugh.  Oliver’s kid.  Wow.  He wasn’t hypothetical anymore.  Or hidden, on the other side of the country.  He was real and he was _here_.

Felicity looked over her shoulder and found William looking back at them with a bright blue, intelligent stare…and, _wow_ , he looked so much like Oliver that it brought tears to her eyes.

“William?” Oliver called, turning back to his son, sounding so much like a father… _that_ was even more _wow_.

“I didn’t agree to stay up there,” William defended, squaring his shoulders and meeting Oliver’s eyes defiantly.  

Uh oh.  They were in _so_ much trouble.

Thea stifled a laugh behind her hand and Oliver sent her a warning look.  Then, blowing out a breath, he, again, addressed his son, “I told you that it wasn’t—”

“And I disagreed.”

“Oh my God, he really is a mini-you,” Felicity breathed.  It took her a half-second to realize that she’d said it out-loud.

But it, somehow, (unfortunately) succeeded at drawing all eyes to her.  Oliver shot Felicity a look that was two parts irritation, one part pride.  Or, maybe, it was the other way around.

“Scary,” Thea agreed, nodding and earning her own glare from her brother.  Which she ignored completely.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt the family reunions,” Rene cut in, “but can we do this up _there_ …?”

Frown still firmly in place, Oliver looked to Digg.  “John, get these people out of here.”

Digg started to organize the rescue, but Felicity’s eyes kept being drawn back to Oliver’s son.  She didn’t know what she had expected, but…in her mind, William was a sweet little boy who liked baseball and had his father’s eyes.

Somehow, Felicity hadn’t realized until that moment that they were dealing with a _child_.  Oliver’s child, yes, but also a little _person_ (well, not so little anymore) with more than just likes and dislikes, but with a whole complex personality.

A personality that might not love the idea of a stepmom.

Not that Felicity was a stepmom, per se.  She was more of a step… _girlfriend_?  Was that a thing?  

It would be hard enough for the pre-teen to get used to a new dad, but a socially awkward step-girlfriend with a tendency to babble and…oh God… _panic_ …

Felicity could feel a _real_ nice panic coming on.

Then, as if on cue, William turned and focused the entirety of that intense blue gaze on her.  “You’re Felicity?”

Oh _frak_.  

Now what?  How come in all her ruminations and fantasies about Oliver and his son, Felicity had never really thought about what to say in _this_ moment?  She sucked in a breath and…crap.  How was she caught so completely off-guard?  And yet…

Oliver had mentioned her?  Felicity looked back at him, because, wow, the very first time he had gotten to speak to his son, as a _father_ , and…William knew her name? Double wow,

Oliver smiled at her and Felicity smiled back, because…that meant a _lot_.  

It didn’t, however, help her figure out what the _hell_ to say to William that would make him _not_ hate her.  She forced herself to make eye contact and smile.  It had been a long time since Felicity had wanted _this much_ to make a good impression, so, of course, she was going to frak it up big time.  

“Yeah.  Yup.  I’m Felicity.”  And…that was awesome.  Super articulate.   _Way_ to make a first impression.

“Dad says…” William trailed off glancing behind him at his mother.

And Felicity’s eyes flew to Oliver, because ‘dad?’  Already, ‘ _dad_?’  That was… _something_.  Was it normal for _that_ to happen so fast?  Because Felicity _really_ didn’t think it was.  Not that anything that was going on here was _normal_ , but…

The look on Oliver’s face, it made Felicity’s heart flip over.  He looked thrilled and terrified and in shock all at once.  He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, not sure who was more terrified.

But looking back at William, Samantha standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders…well, _she_ looked the more shocked than anyone at William’s use of the word ‘dad.’  And nothing in her expression said ‘thrilled.’  

Lovely.  That was going to go well.

Then William recaptured Felicity’s attention.  “ _Dad_ says,” and this time he said the word almost defiantly, “that you hate lies.”

Samantha’s breath hissed, but Felicity didn’t really have time to contemplate that, she was too busy giving a stunned laugh of her own.  Why did she feel like however she decided to answer that, she was wandering into a whole other sort of minefield?

“Uh…yeah.  Does anyone _like_ lies?” Felicity babbled and, maybe, tried to deflect.  It did not escape her notice that this child had been lied to _a lot_.  Most of which came from his mother, the only parent the boy had known.  

Until now.  Felicity had to wonder if that was why William was so eager to embrace his new ‘ _dad’_.

“It seems to me, that most adults _love_ lies.” William’s eyes were hard as they fixed on Felicity.  He was a scary kid.  

“ _William_ ,” Samantha hissed.  It was a clear reprimand.

The boy’s eyes flashed and his jaw ticked, but he refused to even acknowledge his mother in any other way.   He was stubbornly waiting for Felicity’s answer and, yeah…check one for nature over nurture, because that was _all_ Oliver.  

And, suddenly, Felicity felt for William.  Like really _felt_ for the boy.  She knew she would love him, because he was a piece of Oliver and there was no part of Oliver that she didn’t love.  But this was different.  This had nothing at all to do with William being Oliver’s son.  

William had been lied to and abandoned and kidnapped and uprooted.  Felicity hadn’t been through _all_ of that as a child, but a lot of it (and the rest she had experienced as an adult).  She knew how hard it was to trust someone after.  She also understood how desperately he _wanted_ to find someone he _could_ trust.

Felicity let go of Oliver’s hand and approached William (she would have crouched down, but he wasn’t really that much shorter than her) and met his eyes and…yup, they were in trouble, because this kid was smart and stubborn and Oliver through and through.

But, thankfully, Felicity knew how to speak to Oliver, so she really hoped that would help.  “William, most adults…most _people_ don’t _like_ lies.   Well, super crazy people like Adrian Chase _love_ lies.”  Oh great, now she was going off on a babble tangent.   _Shoot_.  “But that’s just the rare—”

“Super-villain?” Willian supplied helpfully, looking a little more at ease.  That was good, right?

“I was going to say _psychopath_ , but super-villain works.”  What was she even saying?  “Sometimes, we call them the _Big Bad_.”

“No, we don’t,” Oliver corrected her.  Gently, like an often-repeated joke, not like a no-fun pompous asshole.

“Well, _I_ do,” Felicity told William, somewhat annoyed that Oliver had contradicted her when she was trying to make a good impression on his son.

But William smiled.  At _her_ , _not_ Oliver, and said, “Cool!”

Felicity threw Oliver a triumphant look.   _Ha_!  Take that.  Someone approved…but Oliver was looking at her with such love, it took the wind from her sails.  Stole her breath, as a matter of fact.

Swallowing, Felicity forced herself to look back at William and try to find something resembling a point here.  “Besides the bad guys, whatever we call them…most people… _good_ people, like your mom and dad,” and, wow, was _that_ weird to say in relation to Oliver, “lie because they think it’s the right thing to do.  To protect people.  I don’t know your mom well…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Felicity saw Samantha stiffen, probably wondering if she was going to get thrown under the bus.  And it was tempting.  It _really_ was.

“But, I _do_ know she loves you.  More than anything.”  It was the one good thing Felicity could say about Samantha without reservation.  “And I know your father _really_ well and he’s one of the best people…in the _world_.  And he has loved you since the moment that he found out about you.”

And…Felicity found herself, suddenly and _completely_ , choked up.  It was hard to finish, actually.  But, somehow, she resisted the urge to look at Oliver and kept eye contact with William.  She had his rapt attention, so she knew she had to keep going.  But she didn’t know what else to say.  Or even how to make her voice work again.  

Oliver slipped his hand back into hers and it helped.  Especially, since Felicity found herself in this bizarre staring contest with his son and…

“Well, I think lying to someone to protect them is just stupid,” William announced.

And Felicity couldn’t say she _dis_ agreed.  In general, anyway.  Clearing her throat, she added, “I’d say _misguided_.  It’s less judgey.”

William took a step closer, his eyes still _so_ intense.  Felicity was feeling pretty judged right then.  “Do you _really_ like _Battlestar Galactica_?”

It was pretty clear that Felicity’s answer to _this_ question was at _least_ as important as the lie question.  Luckily, it was a lot easier to answer.  “Of course.”

“Who’s your favorite character?” William demanded and…

Okay, this conversation had taken a very strange turn.  

“Starbuck…” Felicity answered, her eyes flicking from Samantha to Oliver, trying to figure out what the _hell_ was going on here.  They looked as bemused as she did.  

Then Felicity looked for Curtis because he, at least, had _Battlestar Galactica_ knowledge, which was, _apparently_ , essential to her relationship with her future stepson…but it looked as if Curtis had already been evacuated.

William nodding thoughtfully at Felicity’s answer and she wondered if he approved or not.  Was she supposed to have a _particular_ favorite?  She waited for the next question in his interrogation, but when it didn’t come, she might have panicked and asked, “Do you like _Dr. Who_?”

“It’s okay,” William shrugged, not looking too excited.  “I haven’t gotten through all the episodes.”

Damn.  A fail.

“I like _Star Wars_ better,” William offered and Felicity smiled.

Yes.  She gave herself a mental fist pump.  She could talk _Star Wars_ for _days_.  “What’s your favorite movie?” Felicity asked, hoping hers sounded more like a friendly question and less like an interrogation.  

William’s face became serious, thinking it over like the very important question that it was.  Finally, he answered, “ _Rogue One_.”

“Yes!” Felicity didn’t even think, just held her fist out and William met it with a heart-melting smile on his face.  This one was going to be a charmer for sure.

And Samantha…well, she looked both impressed and terrified.

“But my real favorite,” William said, looking both eager and hopeful now, “is the Marvel stuff.”

Oh thank _God_.  If William had been into nothing but sports, Felicity didn’t know _what_ she would have done.  “MCU?”

“Yeah, but what I really love is the graphic novels.” And the way William said ‘graphic novel’ instead of ‘comic book’ showed exactly how _serious_ he was about the topic.  This kid was no casual fan.  “Well, until that Cap Nazi crap,” William added with an eye-roll.

“ _William_ ,” Samantha reprimanded again, but this time they _both_ completely ignored her.  It was probably not the best decision on Felicity’s part, but, hey, they were bonding here. Having a moment.  And ‘crap’ was just a _minor_ swear…right?

“Yeah, what _is_ that?” Felicity asked, because she might not have time to read graphic novels, but she certainly knew about the Cap/Nazi controversy.

William rolled his eyes.  “I have _no_ idea.”

“Have you seen the new _Guardians of the Galaxy_ movie?” Felicity asked, because if they could bond over a common love of little Groot that would be awe- _some_.

Casting an accusing look at his mother, William answered petulantly, “Not yet.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s something we can fix,” and _Felicity_ might have said _that_ a bit defiantly, earning a sigh and a (deeper) frown from William’s mother.

“Have you seen the _Iron Fist_?”

“I’m only halfway through _Luke Cage_ …wait…” Felicity looked back at Oliver, then at Samantha and William.  “Is that appropriate for a ten year-old?”

Oliver returned Felicity’s look with wide-eyed horror, clearly completely out of his depth, because, of _course_ , he would have no idea.

“William?” Samantha asked, directing a very _mom_ -look at her son, who was trying valiantly not to look guilty.

Though, shouldn’t Samantha already _know_ that it wasn’t appropriate?  Because the more Felicity thought about it…it was very much _not_ for a ten-year-old.  Shouldn’t Samantha be monitoring that sort of thing?

William rolled his eyes again, something the boy was rather good at, it seemed, and waved off his mother.  “It’s _fine_ , mom.”  

But he was defensive.  William _knew_ that he wasn’t supposed to be watching that stuff and, as much as Felicity hated the idea of it, she had a feeling she was going to have to talk to Samantha about this.

Thankfully, Thea stepped up to interrupt any more immediate awkwardness, clearing her throat and saying, “I know it’s hard for the Queen men to notice anyone else when Felicity’s in the room, but…”

Thea tone was teasing, she even winked at Felicity, but Samantha looked far from amused.  Felicity doubted she liked her son being called a ‘Queen man’ after she had spent so much time and effort trying to keep William away from his father’s family.

Oliver, on the other hand, focused on the rest of Thea’s sentence, becoming flustered and bursting out with, “Oh God, I’m sorry,” with a nervousness that they so rarely saw in Oliver.  He let go of Felicity and put a hand on Thea’s shoulder, ushering her forward.  “William, this is my little sister, you aunt, Thea.”

“Little sister, huh?” Thea quirked a playful eyebrow at her brother.  It was so nice to see her like that after what happened with Malcolm.  Though, Thea, ever her mother’s daughter, was a master at compartmentalization.  “ _That’s_ how you are going to introduce me?”

Eyes flashing amusement, Oliver turned back to William and corrected, “This is my beautiful and brilliant, _little_ sister, who has difficulty not being the center of attention.”

“Hey!”  Thea turned to whack Oliver on the shoulder and Felicity was quite certain that her blows hurt a lot more than Felicity’s, even if they _were_ roughly the same size.  “I’m meeting my nephew for the first time, do you _have_ to insult me?”

Then Thea turned her full attention to William, giving him her hundred-watt smile and offering her hand to the wide-eyed boy, who looked rather in awe of his sophisticated aunt.  The one who had, somehow, survived a kidnapping and an island wide explosion, and barely looked rumpled.

“Hello, William. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”  

And, wow, _that_ was how one introduced herself.  Felicity wished she had a _tenth_ of Thea’s social graces.  Though, not if it meant growing up with Moira Queen…

“Hi…um...so you’re my _aunt_ …” William looked stunned, like it was the first time he had even considered such a thing.  That finding his father might also mean a whole other set of family members.  Too bad there weren’t many left.

Thea’s smile widened.  “Kinda cool, huh?”

William nodded jerkily.  “I never had an aunt before.  Or an uncle.  Or anything.  It was always just me and my mom.”

Thea sent a cautious glance to Samantha, who looked so tense it seemed that she might shatter if a breeze came through.

Yet, Felicity couldn’t help but think that Samantha had made this particular bed, she was going to have to deal with lying in it.

“Well, you have _lots_ of family now.”  Thea smiled at William, pointedly ignoring Samantha.  “Not a lot of _blood_ relatives, but lots of _family_.”

William smiled.  He certainly seemed to like the idea, even if his mother didn’t.

John walked up next, addressing William, “And I’m John Diggle, your dad’s best friend.  You can call me Uncle John or just Digg, since my son calls this one Uncle Ollie.” John gestured with his thumb to Oliver.  “But right now, I’m the one that’s going to get you and your mom out of here.  You’re up, little man.”

Felicity was surprised at how quickly William complied, just a quick glance at his father, and he nodded, following John so he could hook him up to the cable.  

Looking around, Felicity realized that most of the team had already evacuated.  William and Samantha quickly followed and Oliver turned to Thea, murmuring, “Can you watch out for him?  I need a minute.”

Thea looked between Oliver and Felicity and gave them an approving smile, before nodding.  Once she was topside, it was only John, Felicity, and Oliver.  And Slade.

Oliver turned to his old teammate.  “Slade?  You’re up.”

But Slade was still lounging on the floor, the same position he had been in when he’d called Felicity out for wearing a path in the floor.  He tilted his head, seeming to consider.  “ARGUS, huh?”

“Yeah…?” John answered, flashing Oliver and Felicity a questioning look.  “They’re waiting, man.”

Slade didn’t budge.  In fact, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes, his head falling casually back to land on the stone wall.  “I’m thinking that I’ll take my chances on the island.  I know you promised me my freedom to look for my son, Oliver, but I don’t think Amanda Waller will feel an obligation—”

“Waller’s dead.  My wife is in charge now,” Digg interrupted.  

Slade opened his eye to look at John.  He seemed to ponder that, but after a minute he just shook his head.  “I think it would be better if I just… _died_ when the island blew up.”

Oliver sighed.  “There’s nothing _left_ on this island.  You can’t stay here, Slade.  There’s no food, no shelter—”

Felicity could see Slade wasn’t buying it.  She stepped closer and crouched down next to him.  “Slade, you saved us today.  Many times over.  You’ve paid for the crimes you perpetrated under the influence of Mirakuru.  We’ll vouch for you.”

Oliver flashed Felicity a surprised smile, but it was Slade who looked… _completely_ stunned.

Then John took over, adding, “Look, Slade, Lyla’s not Amanda.  She’s a reasonable woman with strong morals.  I can’t guarantee you’ll walk out of there a free man, but we’ll get you a fair trial.  A chance to be _really_ free.”

Again, Slade seemed to be mulling this over, but this time with a lot more optimism.  Finally, he asked, “And if they don’t?  If they decide to throw me in another hole in the ground?”

“Then…” Felicity smiled, shrugging.  “It turns out we’re _really_ good at breaking people out of secure government facilities.”  Because Oliver’s promise might not be ARGUS’ promise, but it was Team Arrow’s promise.

Slade gave a bark of laughter and Oliver’s hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed.   Felicity looked up him and almost melted at the warmth in Oliver’s eyes.  She placed a hand over his and he took it, pulling her back to her feet.

They all turned to look at John…and, yeah, Felicity wondered if she should have said that in front of him.  Was she putting Digg in a weird position?  Making him choose between Team Arrow and his wife?  But John just shrugged, his face impassive.  “That _is_ a true statement.”

Then Digg turned his eyes to Felicity and sent her a private wink that had her biting back smile.

Oliver held out a hand to Slade.  “What do you say?  Willing to take your chances?”

Slapping his hand into Oliver’s, Slade finally grinned.  “I always was a gambling man.”

Once he was on his feet, Slade was quickly evacuated.  Then Digg turned to Felicity, but Oliver pulled her back.  “Can we have a few minutes?”

Felicity shot Oliver a surprised look, but Digg just grinned.  “Sure, man.  Just don’t take too long.  I’m ready to get off this hell-hole.”

Watching as Digg disappeared into the opening in the ceiling, Felicity laughed.  “I can’t believe that you just asked ‘ _for the room’_ in an underground Nex—mmmph…”

Oliver cut Felicity off with his lips, spinning her and threading his hands into her hair, crashing his lips to hers.

And, _God_ , it was good.

Felicity grabbed the straps of Oliver’s quiver and yanked him closer, if closer was even possible, given their…incredible _closeness_.  Eagerly, she opened her lips beneath his and, yeah, _this_ was the kiss she had wanted back in the forest.  Except _that_ was a goodbye and this was very much a hello.

And _quite_ the hello it was.  Oliver’s desperation and joy were obvious, poured into every stroke of his lips and tongue, every tiny movement of his mouth.

_This_ was what Felicity wanted from life.  A lifetime of _hellos_ like this one.  With Oliver.  Only Oliver.

Felicity dragged one hand over his shoulder and up to cup the nape of his neck, tilting her head and opening her mouth wide, knowing Oliver would follow and…he did, completely, easily, seamlessly.   And then there were tongues tangling and warmth and pleasure and the _taste_ of him…

Oliver groaned, deep and low, his hand falling to her ass, yanking her closer, plastering Felicity against his leather clad body.  Would that ever stop being a turn on?

_Um_ mm…Green Arrow Sex.  Felicity’s _favorite_.  Of course, she had a lot of favorites when it came to Oliver.  And she missed every one of them.  She was _so_ ready to re-explore every _single_ one.  It had been far too long.  

Frak, Felicity wanted to peel this suit from Oliver’s body, piece by piece.  To lick every inch of salty, sweaty skin revealed…

But just as Felicity was about to find those hidden fastenings, the ones she would remember until the day she died, Oliver tore his lips from hers.  

Panting, Oliver’s forehead fell to her shoulder.  And Felicity realized, _oh yeah_ , they were in an underground chamber while their friends and family waited for them outside so they could all leave a burnt-out hell of an island.   _Frak_.  

Didn’t exactly give them time for the type of reunion sex they deserved.  

Oliver lifted his head, moving to rest his forehead against hers, instead of her shoulder.  He cupped her face, his fingers tracing her ears, sighing, “ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ ,” and there was so much emotion in that one breath of a word, it brought tears to Felicity’s eyes.  

She knew it was time for her to say something, though Felicity really wasn’t sure what.  Nothing felt quite profound enough for that moment.  

“So.  We survived.  Again.”  

Felicity wasn’t exactly sure what possessed her to say _that_.  Profound it was not, but Oliver huffed out an emotion filled laugh and she breathed it in, letting it fill her.

“For a minute there…” Oliver licked his lips and shook his head, his forehead rolling against hers as he did.  “I was _so_ fucking terrified.”

A tear slipped free as Felicity nodded.  “Me too…I didn’t want to leave you…we didn’t know where you were…if you found William or…”

Felicity didn’t realize that her voice had taken on a frantic edge until Oliver was murmuring, “Shhh.  Shh.  It’s okay.   _I’m_ okay…”  His thumbs caught her tears as they fell, before she even realized they were there.  “ _We_ made it.”

This time.  But, Felicity refused to give _that_ thought the legitimacy of putting it to words.  Instead, she wrapped her arms more fully around him, hugging him tightly.  Thankfully, Oliver seemed to know exactly what she needed and embraced her just as tightly, bringing his hands around to rest on her back, tucking her head under his and rubbing his cheek against her hair, enveloping her completely with his strength.  

“When I saw the island explode…” Oliver’s voice was thick with emotion and Felicity could feel him shaking his head against the top of her head.  Maybe, this was what he needed as well.  Felicity closed her eyes, fighting the burn, trying not to break down in sobs.  “If I hadn’t needed to hold it together for William, I think I would have lost it.”

Felicity could imagine it.  She wished that she couldn’t, though, because now her mind refused to _un_ see it.   Oliver watching the explosions and imagining the worst, then realizing that his son needed him, needed him to stay positive, strong, hopeful.  She could see Oliver pull himself together, being the father she always knew he could be.

Okay, maybe, it wasn’t such a bad image after all.  Smiling against him, Felicity tipped her head up and murmured, “You are such a good dad.”

Oliver’s laugh was disbelieving to the point of incredulous.  He pulled back just enough to look into Felicity’s eyes.  “I have _no_ idea what I’m doing.  William is…” He shook his head, an overwhelmed look that Felicity could very much relate to written across his every feature.  “ _So_ much more than I expected.”

Felicity had to laugh.  Because…  “Yeah.  I can see… _yeah_.  Yup.  William is…”

“A handful?” Oliver supplied, a different sort of terror lighting his eyes.

Chuckling, only _slightly_ hysterically, Felicity smiled.  “I was going to say ‘amazing’, but that too.  And _so_ much like you, I can’t even wrap my head around it.”  It pulled on her heartstrings how much like Oliver William was.

“Really?” Oliver asked as if he hadn’t even considered it.  He sounded…disbelieving.  Hopeful.  Proud.  So very proud.  

Felicity nodded and Oliver broke out in a grin.  “I can’t believe how much like _you_ he is.”

She _really_ laughed at that one.  “I’m just relieved that we have _something_ to talk about.”

Oliver’s grin was getting progressively more and more giddy.  “William was afraid you wouldn’t like him.”

Okay, that was just…Felicity scrunched up her face, a new wave of emotion threatening to choke her.  “That makes two of us.  But…but you know that I love him already, right?”

“I do.”  Oliver nodded, tears filling his eyes.  “I _know_ you do.  You’re the most loving…” He broke off with an almost whimper and pressed his lips, hard, against hers.  “And that’s really good, because William wants to come and live in Star City.”

Felicity’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help but smile.  It was everything she wanted for him.  For _both_ Oliver and his son.  “What did you say?”

Shrugging, helplessly, Oliver shook his head.  “I said…I said that I wanted that too, but we had to talk to Samantha.  That I wouldn’t take him from her.”

Her smiled widened.  Felicity was just _so_ proud of him.  “The perfect answer.  See, you’re already an incredible father.”

Oliver huffed, blushing from the praise.  “I’m not so sure about that.  Samantha is going to be furious.  Felicity, he…William asked me all sorts of questions.  Really _hard_ questions and I…I couldn’t put him off.”

Felicity bit her lip.  She could only imagine the sorts of questions the poor kid had.  “What did you tell him?”

Again with the overwhelmed look.  Oliver shook his head.  “The truth.  William seems to have a real sore spot for honesty and I can’t blame him.  What else could I do?”

“Nothing,” Felicity assured.  Because, seriously?  Of _course_ , he had a sore spot for the truth.  His mother was a compulsive liar.  Another thing William had in common with his father.  “You _had_ to tell him the truth.  How could that be wrong?”

His nose scrunched up and guilt clouded Oliver’s eyes.  “I tried not to but…it felt a lot like I was throwing Samantha under the bus.”

Well, that’s what the woman got for all her stupid secrets.

But…Felicity purposely pushed those unkind thoughts away.  Maybe, she was being too hard on Samantha.  Felicity hadn’t walked in her shoes, didn’t know all the reasons she’d made the choices she’d made.

Except…it was really hard for Felicity not to feel like she could have made much better ones.

“Co-parenting is going to be…hard.” And, yeah, _that_ was the understatement of the century.  “But you’re his father and William deserves to have you in his life and you…” She took a deep, fortifying breath.  “You deserve a chance to know him, to be the father I _know_ you can be.”  It made Felicity want to weep thinking about the love Oliver had inside him to give.

Oliver’s lip trembled as he traced her cheekbone.  “I don’t know if I deserve _you_ , but I…I couldn’t do this without you.”

He was going to make Felicity cry all over again.  “ _Oliver_ …”

Again, he cut her off with his lips.

But they only had a moment before Digg’s voice echoed through the chamber.  “Time's up, you two.  Lyla says that she has a nice clean cabin ready in the aircraft carrier, but, right now, the copter is waiting on you.”

“One more minute,” Oliver called, smiling down at Felicity.

Digg grunted loud enough for them to hear it down in the chamber.  “It had better be _exactly_ one minute….”

Oliver’s grin widened and he murmured, his voice like molten honey, “I love you.”

Felicity chuckled, a very _tearful_ chuckle.  “I love you, too, but you really need to quit it with the making me cry thing.”

Giving her one last quick (hard) kiss, Oliver pulled her over to the dangling cable, “Let’s get the hell out of this hole.”  He attached the cord to Felicity’s belt and stood back.  “I’ll be right behind you.”

“You had _better_ be.” And with one last, too brief, kiss, Felicity grabbed the cord and tugged.

Once she was outside, Felicity…

Dear _God_ , Felicity thought was she prepared.  For the devastation.  But… _wow_.   It looked like the set of a live-action _Nightmare Before Christmas_.  If they hadn’t found that chamber…

But for the Grace of God.  They were _so_ lucky to be alive.

It seemed like a lot _less_ than a minute before Oliver was topside as well, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her to the helicopter.  After that, Felicity couldn’t leave the island fast enough.

Oliver was right.  It really _had_ become the literal representation of hell on earth and the image was only intensified by the smoldering red embers that stood out against the night sky.

On the helicopter, everyone was already strapped in. William’s head rested on his mother’s shoulder.  He was already fast asleep.  Just looking at him…

Felicity yawned, exhaustion crashing into her like a Mack truck.

“Ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Rene asked, grinning.

Felicity snapped herself in, too tired to even chuckle in response.  “So, ready.”

Dinah had her head back and her eyes closed as she muttered, “Ready yesterday, ready.”

“We’re good to go,” Oliver called out as he settled in next to Felicity.  The helicopter’s propellers started up as Oliver’s arm fell comfortably around her shoulders.

That was Felicity’s last thought before sleep claimed her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “When I tell you to do something, it’s not a suggestion,” was something I said to one of my Girl Scouts this spring and have repeated it often since.  I feel like it says so much about this age group.
> 
> I didn’t get a chance to thank my wonderful betas last week, so a double thanks this week to **Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed, and Ireland1733**. 
> 
> Also, thank you to all the wonderful commenters on Chapter 6, you really did revive the muse.  And an extra special thank you to anyone who has signed up for an AO3 account to leave a comment, when I had to turn off anon.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> Emmilynestill (Twitter/Tumblr)


	8. Reverberations (and Repercussions)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

Felicity fell asleep the moment her head hit Oliver’s shoulder, before the helicopter had even left the ground.  She stayed asleep for the entire short, if choppy, flight to the aircraft carrier and didn’t even stir at the less than smooth landing.

Slade had leaned in and whispered that Felicity had been the only one who hadn’t rested at all while they were stuck in the Nexus Chamber.  So…yeah, no way Oliver was waking her.  Even though it meant letting Digg carry his son, who was equally fast asleep, to his own cabin. 

As much as Oliver would have relished getting the chance to carry his boy, he wasn’t willing to wake Felicity for the privilege.   She would, undoubtedly, not only wake if someone else touched her, but be terribly embarrassed.  She hated being carried around like ‘a damsel in distress’ as she put it, so Oliver really hoped that she wouldn’t wake until he had her safely tucked into bed.

Felicity whimpered a bit as he lifted her, but Oliver remembered exactly how to hold her.  His _body_ remembered.  Instinctively.  And hers seemed to as well.  Soon, she was curled against his chest, her head safely tucked under his chin, and her hand clutching the straps of his quiver as he carried her bridal style.

Oliver kept a close eye on John and Samantha until they were directed to their own compartment, down the hall from the one Oliver was shown to.

Still, he foolishly didn’t realize, until _after_ he had laid Felicity down in the bunk, that this cabin had been assigned to the _both_ of them.

One cabin one with _one_ bunk and one chair and barely enough room on the floor for a child, never mind a grown man, to stretch out on.

Oliver tried to argue about the arrangement with the ensign who had escorted him there, but the kid just kept repeating that these were his orders.  And with Director Michaels nowhere in sight…Oliver let it go.  For now.

It wasn’t like this wasn’t exactly where Oliver wanted to be anyway.

The problem was, as much as Oliver wanted to strip down, climb into bed next to Felicity, and sleep for a week, it felt…

Presumptuous.  Disrespectful, even, to climb into bed next to Felicity, _while_ she was sleeping, when they hadn’t slept together…well, during _this_ particular relationship.   It was weird, though, because they _had_ slept together more times than Oliver could count, so now…it simultaneously felt incredibly right and natural and…

Well, what if Felicity wasn’t _ready_ yet?  She had said she wanted to skip to the ‘middle,’ but was this the ‘middle?  Oliver had no idea if she would consider _this_ …sleeping together purely for sleep, which somehow felt more intimate than passing out after sex… _the middle_.  Or even if, after the last traumatic 48 hours, she…just needed some time to herself.  To process it all.

What if Felicity didn’t _want_ to wake up in a strange place with Oliver pressed up next to her?  And, let’s face it, with a bunk that small and the way he was feeling, if he was _only_ up pressed against her by the morning it would be a miracle.

Though, Felicity waking up in a strange place, _all by herself,_ with no idea how she got there…would that be worse?

Oliver ran his hand down his face.  His sweaty, dirty, soot darkened face.

He needed to stop being neurotic and, at least, get himself cleaned up.  But knowing that was the right thing to do, didn’t make Oliver feel any less awkward as he peeled off the Green Arrow suit, feeling like it was a violation to undress in front of Felicity without her being aware.  Not when they hadn’t been… _intimate_. 

Yet. 

Again.

But the ‘bathroom’ was a narrow shower and a toilet, with barely enough room to stand between them and this suit required a little more maneuverability to remove.  Oliver was certain that he would wake Felicity if he even attempted it.

And then there was the fact that Felicity was lying on the bunk fully clothed and _that_ couldn’t be comfortable.  But undressing her was _way_ over the line, so…waking her would solve all of Oliver’s problems, but…

Felicity let out a soft sleepy noise and rolled over onto her side, toward Oliver, snuggling into the pillow.

Yeah.   _No_.  Not waking her.  Not on purpose.

But, Christ, he hadn’t even removed Felicity’s glasses.  Oliver should have done _that_ right away. 

He eased her glasses off her face, frowning at the marks that were left behind and smoothing a gentle thumb over the red indentations.  When Felicity didn’t wake at that, Oliver eased off her ridiculous boots as well.

Again, Felicity didn’t even stir, so Oliver figured he could safely remove the rest of _his_ clothes, since it seemed like she was out for the count.  He took a quick shower to remove the layer of caked on grime from his skin and drank probably half-gallon of water, before slipping into the matching ARGUS issued t-shirt and sweats that had been left for them.

Then it was just…a cleaner, less smelly Oliver staring down at a sleeping Felicity and trying to figure out what to do next.  He fell into the chair and watched her, which might be considered creepy, but even if it was, _he_ found it incredibly comforting. 

Still… _now_ what?   Should Oliver wake Felicity up and ask her what she wanted him to do?  Should he just say fuck it and climb into bed with her?  Or should he try to sleep on the floor or even this chair?

That was when Oliver realized, even with the exhaustion settling into his bones, he was far too restless to actually sleep.  Even with Felicity.  His thoughts drifted to William and not knowing _exactly_ where he was caused Oliver’s anxiety to rise.  Maybe if he checked in on his son, made sure he was sleeping, safe and sound, Oliver could finally relax and get some sleep.  _Wherever_ he decided that would be.

Chancing a soft kiss to Felicity’s temple, Oliver took a moment to breathe in her scent.  Even mixed as it was with the smell of smoke, it gave him a sense of peace.  It allowed him to remember that…because of an _incredible_ turn of events, Felicity was safe and healthy and in _his_ bed.

Then Oliver left to reassure himself that William was just as safe.  And only a few doors away.  That they really _had_ connected.  He was an _actual_ father now.  With an amazing boy who wanted him in his life. 

It turned out William wasn’t all that hard to find. 

It, _also,_ turned out that he was _not_ sleeping soundly.  And while William appeared to be safe (Oliver hoped), he sure as hell didn’t sound happy.

In fact, Oliver could hear the screaming from the other end of the corridor.  Mostly, it was William he heard, but Samantha’s raised voice was mixed in there as well. 

It was at that point that Oliver _seriously_ considered turning around and retreating right back into the cabin with Felicity.  It was embarrassing how close he came to turning tail and running from this particular fight.

A fight that Oliver would admit he found almost as terrifying as anything Chase had thrown at him. 

But Oliver wasn’t so pathetic that he didn’t realize how absurd that was.  Besides, what if something was really wrong in there?  He needed to at least check.  To offer his help.

Taking a deep breath and, this time, _fighting_ the instinct that told him to run in the opposite direction (but was that instinct or terror?), Oliver walked _toward_ the yelling.

Oliver thought, maybe, he walked down that corridor very much like a man on death row would.

Rene popped his head out, his eyes flying down the hall to the door the yelling was emanating from, then back to Oliver.  Shaking his head, Rene’s lip tipped up in an amused smirk.  “And they say girls at this age are difficult.”

If Oliver didn’t know the hell Rene was going through over Zoe, he’d probably pop him one. 

But then another door opened and Quintin appeared.  _He_ listened for approximately ten seconds, took in Oliver’s expression, and then laughed uproariously, before muttering, “Karma,” and disappearing behind his door again.

Well, _fuck_.

Oliver groaned and rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes as the yelling got louder the closer he came.

“Good luck, man.”  Rene sounded genuinely sympathetic, which didn’t even allow Oliver to direct any of his frustration at his teammate. 

Instead, Oliver just nodded and swallowed and continued his death march. 

By the time he got to the door of the room William and Samantha were _very_ _clearly_ staying in, Oliver was desperate enough to go back and ask even _Rene_ for advice, but, unfortunately, he had already disappeared back into his cabin. 

As Oliver listened on the other side of the door (the _safe_ side), it became crystal clear that the only thing wrong in there was the mother-son relationship.  Which Oliver couldn’t say he was shocked about considering everything William had said to him on Lian Yu.

Maybe, it would be best if Oliver didn’t interfere.  Samantha and William had been handling this sort of thing for ten years.  Who was Oliver to step in now?  Was it even any of his business?  Would he just make it worse?

“You’re a _liar_ and you never cared about me and I _hate_ you!”

When Oliver heard William scream those words, he had his hands on the door handle before he had time to blink.  Luckily, he remembered at the last moment to knock, but the door was already open by then and he went in without being invited.

That was probably mistake #1.

Oliver’s plan…well, his _hope_ was to play mediator.  All he wanted to do was calm the situation down.  Reassure William that his mom loved him, that they _both_ loved him.  Reassure Samantha that he had no intention of stealing her son.  And, maybe, in the middle of it all that, he’d have a stern talk with William about being respectful to his mother. 

Yup, that was Oliver’s plan.  Be a father.  A good one.  Or, at least, an… _adequate_ one.

Ha!  Mistake #2. 

Though, Oliver wasn’t sure if the mistake was thinking he could pull it off or thinking it was that easy. 

Maybe both. 

No, _defiantly_ both.

Oliver was _not_ a natural mediator.  That was something he was reminded of pretty quickly.  He quickly found himself in the middle of a pretty ugly show down between mother and son.  

And the middle, he meant the _middle_.  _Not_ as a neutral party…nope, not at all.  Because it rapidly became clear, from the moment he arrived, that while William was angry at his mother, Samantha was _furious_ at Oliver.

For so _so_ many reasons.  More reasons than Oliver could even wrap his head around.  Some fair.  Some really really _not_. 

Then there were the reasons…no, the _accusations_ that played straight into all of Oliver’s insecurities.

It didn’t help that any time Oliver even _hinted_ at agreeing with Samantha, William took it as the _ultimate_ betrayal.  So, Oliver really couldn’t win.  Every step toward Samantha was, apparently, a step _away_ from William.  And wasn’t it obvious who Oliver would choose?

Between that and the bile Samantha was spewing at him…suddenly, an hour had passed and Oliver was just as angry as William.  He couldn’t even say how exactly it happened, but, suddenly, Oliver wasn’t in the middle any more.  _Suddenly_ , it was Oliver and William _against_ Samantha and that was not what Oliver had intended.   _At all_. 

But, by _then_ , Oliver wasn’t even thinking straight.  In the end…

“We’ll talk about this in the morning when _you_ are more reasonable!   _Or_ we can talk about this with our lawyers, but you sure as _hell_ aren’t keeping my son from me _again_!”

Yeah, mistake number…Oliver didn’t even know.  But the number was pretty large at that point.

His exit was dramatic.  For good or for evil, Oliver got the last word in.

Fuck.

Once Oliver was back in the corridor the anger drained away so quickly it left him dizzy.  Then he was just left feeling…like a _complete ass._

And, maybe, even a failure.

Shit.

_Fuck_.

Oliver stood there, in an empty corridor, in the dead of the night, feeling nothing but regret and shame and… _exhaustion_.  He dropped his head into his hands and waited to see if William (or Samantha) would start crying again.  Or yelling (yelling would be better than crying).  Though, Oliver had no fucking clue what he was going to do if it did.

But, thankfully, there was only silence from the inside of that cabin.  Maybe with his exit, Oliver had, at least, succeeded in calling a cease fire until they’d all had some sleep.  It wasn’t much, but maybe he had accomplished _something_.  Even if that something was exhausting William until he passed out. 

As he trudged back up the hallway, Oliver felt at least ten years older than he had walking down.  And that hadn’t been a walk in the park either.

The restless feeling was gone, at any rate.  Now, Oliver felt like he could sleep for a decade.  He just wanted to climb into bed next to Felicity and…

No…he couldn’t do that either. Double fuck.  Nothing had changed.  Oliver still couldn’t do that without her permission.  Maybe, he would just sit and watch her sleep for a while.  It had been a long time since he’d had that particular pleasure…

Oliver opened the door slowly, trying to stay as quiet as possible as to not disturb Felicity, but was surprised to see the light on and—

“Eep.”

Felicity jumped and turned, her hand flying to her chest.  She was awake and showered, dressed in similar, if smaller, ARGUS issue sweats.

“Oh.  Sorry,” Oliver blurted out, his complicated emotions spinning and flipping on their head when confronted with Felicity’s bright, shining face and…the burst of love and relief he felt left him lightheaded.

On top of everything else, it was all a strange mix of thoughts and emotions and it, oddly, left Oliver feeling awkward and shy (which he really did hate).  “If I had known you were awake, I would have knocked…”

A slow smile spread over Felicity’s face, her eyes twinkling as he closed the door behind him.  Oliver leaned back against it and she bit her lip…but it wasn’t a nervous gesture.  It was a teasing one. 

Oliver might be in trouble here. 

Thank _God_. 

It was exactly the sort of trouble Oliver was in dire need of.

“So…you were sneaking into my room thinking I was _asleep_ , Mr. Queen?”

If Felicity’s tone wasn’t so playful and so…well, _sultry,_ Oliver would have been nervous, but considering…

“Well, this _is_ my room too.”  Oliver shrugged, unable to fully shake the bashfulness, no amount of will-power seemed to be able to extinguish it completely.  “Lyla seemed to think…well, she assigned us to the same bunk, but if you’d like, I’ll talk to—”

“ _No_ ,” Felicity was quick to interrupt and her smile…it was contagious.  Oliver hadn’t _really_ thought that she wanted separate rooms any more than he did, but…well, it felt good to hear.  “It’s _fine_.  But if this is _our_ bunk…” She patted the mattress.  “Then why weren’t you here with me when I woke up?”

Oliver felt his skin warm and he thought, maybe, _half_ of it was this stupid bashful adolescent routine his body seemed stuck on.  But, no, it was less than that, because warmth and love and arousal was, thankfully starting to edge that out.

Though, Oliver was back to shuffling his feet, which was _really_ embarrassing for a grown man of 32.  How did Felicity do this to him? 

He looked at her through his lashes (partially because of the stupid bashfulness, but _mostly_ because Oliver knew it always made Felicity melt and he needed all the help he could get).  “I didn’t want to climb into bed with you without your permission.  It seemed...I dunno presumptuous or…”

“Good _lord,_ Oliver,” Felicity sighed, her voice equal parts amused and exasperated.  “How many _times_ do we need to agree that we’re back together before you realize that you have all the permission you _need_ to touch an—?  Umph…”

Oliver couldn’t stand it one more minute.  A few short steps and Felicity was in his arms.  He wrapped himself around her, lifting her up so he could bury his face in her neck and breathe in the clean smell of her skin, feel her damp curls against his cheeks.  Her arms wound around his neck tight, her cheek pressed to his hair…

And Oliver just held her.

All he wanted to do was _keep_ holding her.

“I didn’t like waking up without you,” Felicity murmured against his temple and Oliver…

Warmth spread through every cell of Oliver’s body and he groaned.  It was always so hard to believe that Felicity felt this way about him, that someone so _good_ and beautiful and brilliant and wonderful…

After everything Oliver had done, all that he _was_ , all the mistakes he’d made…it blew his mind that Felicity _still_ wanted him.

Felicity’s forgiveness was a blessing Oliver didn’t know if he would _ever_ feel like he deserved, a gift he would spend a lifetime trying to repay.  Gladly.

Oliver pressed his lips to the delicate skin under Felicity’s ear and swore, “You _never_ have to again.  Not if you don’t want to.”

Felicity laughed, hugging him tightly, and it was a sound that Oliver wanted to hear every day for the rest of his life.  “I don’t think that’s a promise you can make, but I certainly appreciate the sentiment.”

She was right and Oliver shouldn’t have said it, the least of which because it was really too much for the step they were on…whatever the hell step _that_ was. 

But it felt real.  It _was_ real.  Oliver _meant_ it.  So he refused to take it back or even regret it.

Oliver tipped his chin to look at up her and Felicity met him halfway, dropping a lingering kiss onto his lips.  He should put her down.  It was silly to stand there with her lifted off the floor like this.  His muscles were exhausted.  But he really didn’t want to, so he nuzzled her cheek with his nose instead.

Leaning into the caress, Felicity hummed, “How did I even get here?  The last thing I remember was the helicopter.”

“I carried you,” Oliver muttered, though it was muffled against her skin and, maybe even, slurred with exhaustion. 

Felicity let out a mock-annoyed grunt.  “And I missed it?  No fair.”

Oliver chuckled.  He was adoring Felicity’s playful mood.  It was _exactly_ what he needed right then.  She always knew exactly what he needed.  “What are you talking about?   You _hate_ being carried.”

Resting her elbows on his shoulders so she could meet his eyes, Felicity gave no sign that she had any issue with Oliver holding her off the ground like a rag doll.  She did, however, scrunch up her face and roll her eyes.  “I hated that I _had_ to be carried when I couldn’t walk on my own.  _Necessary_ carrying is no fun and irritating.  U _nnecessary_ carrying… _that_ is sexy and romantic.  Obviously.”

There was no way Oliver could stop laugh at that.  She was too much.  “Obviously.  Though, I really don’t think it was very sexy given the circumstances.”  Thinking back to him, filthy and battle worn, carrying an equally grimy and exhausted Felicity.  Nope, _not_ sexy.  Then he gave her a small half-smile, “Romantic?  Possibly.”  Though, he wasn’t sure he had a normal definition of romantic.

Felicity gave him another exaggerated sigh, rubbing her nose against Oliver’s, “And I missed it…”

_This_ felt pretty romantic.  Oliver could do this for…a year or two.  He thought for a moment, then made a very _conscious_ decision to say, “I promise plenty of romantic _and_ sexy carrying in your future.”

Felicity beamed down at him, poking him gently in the shoulder as she said, “ _That_ I will hold you to, mister.”

So, it seemed like Oliver had made a good choice referencing the future this time.  He really hoped there would come a time where he could talk about their future together without having to measure every word. 

But…as light as Felicity was, Oliver muscles really _were_ starting to protest.  It had been one long ass day.  Sexy and romantic carrying would have to wait.  Glancing behind them, his eyes found that one chair in the room.

Oliver reached his foot out to turn it toward him and he sat, pulling Felicity onto his lap, straddling him, keeping her as close as he possibly could as his (older than they should be) joints gave way to relief and his muscles relaxed.

Felicity smiled at him, seemingly happy with the change in position, and Oliver couldn’t resist a soft kiss, making her hum in contentment against his lips.  He loved that sound.  Could they just do this for…like a _week_?

“You showered without me,” Felicity pouted, running her fingers through his hair and if she kept doing _that_ Oliver couldn’t see how he could possibly be sorry about it.

“So did you,” Oliver reminded her with a grin, pushing back her damp hair.  It was starting to curl every which way, as it usually did without all the product and effort she put into straightening it.  He loved it like this.  Natural and wild and free.  This was his own private Felicity.  The real woman behind the perfect veneer.

“Hmpph, you have no one to blame but yourself for that one.  Where _were_ you?” Felicity tilted her head to the side, searching Oliver’s face.  Her tone wasn’t accusing, just curious.

Oliver took a deep breath, because…the light tone was unlikely to survive his answering that particular question and he really didn’t want it to end.  “I wanted to make sure William was settled in okay.”

Intelligent eyes searched Oliver’s and Felicity said softly, “You were gone a long time.”

Blowing out the breath he just took, Oliver swallowed.  “He wasn’t settled in okay.”

Immediately, Felicity pulled up straight, going from playful to serious in a millisecond.  “What _happened_?  Is William hurt?”

Oliver shook his head, running a soothing hand over Felicity’s back, hoping she would relax back into him.  He really needed the comfort.  “Not physically.”

Felicity sighed, worry dissolving into…just _sadness_ and Oliver couldn’t help but feel the same.  “What happened?” she repeated, even gentler this time.

Oliver knew he was going to have to talk about it, even if he didn’t want to.  Even though all he really wanted to surround himself with Felicity and forget _everything_. 

At least, for a little while. 

“I…when I got to their room, William was screaming at Samantha about her being a liar.” Oliver rubbed a hand over his eyes, he hated even thinking about it. “He said…rather, he _yelled_ that he hated her.”

Felicity winced.  Which was the appropriate reaction.  Wasn’t that the worst _possible_ thing a kid could say to a parent?

“Yup and I…”  Oliver wasn’t even sure what to say.  “I should have walked away.  I shouldn’t have interfered.”  He really _really_ shouldn’t have. 

Felicity cupped his chin, making Oliver look at her.  “You _had_ to.  Your son was in pain.  You could never walk away from that.”

As grateful as he was for Felicity’s words…Oliver shook his head.  “I made it worse.  A _lot_ worse.”

Nails began to massage his scalp and…dear _God_ , Oliver had missed that.  He leaned into Felicity’s magical fingers as she said, “I’m sure that’s not true.”  Her faith in him felt even better than her caress, even if it was misplaced.

“All I wanted to do was act as a mediator,” Oliver confessed, realizing as he said it how naïve that sounded.  “To help calm William down.  To reassure Samantha that I wasn’t trying to take her son from her…” Which was pretty much _exactly_ what he had threatened to do in the end.  God _dam_ mit.  “Yeah…did you know that I’m really not a good negotiator?”

Felicity stifled a little laugh.  “Well, you do an _awesome_ bad cop.  Good cop…ehhh.  At least, you left your arrows here.  You _did_ leave your arrows here, right?”

Rolling his eyes, Oliver just…he wasn’t even going to answer that.  “Apparently, the fight started when William told Samantha…no _decreed_ that they _were_ moving to Star City.  ASAP.”

This time, it was Felicity who rolled her eyes, though her lips tipped up in an amused smile (which not an appropriate reaction).  “He’s a Queen all right.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her, because this really wasn’t a joke.  “But the _best part_ …William told Samantha that if she didn’t come that was okay because, he’d just move in with _me_.”  Felicity gasped and Oliver nodded.  “ _Oh_ , it gets better.  He told her that _I_ said he could.”

Felicity sucked in a breath.  “You didn’t—?”

“Of _course_ not!” Oliver said, feeling defensive again, just as he had in that small room with his irate son and his even more irate mother.  “I _told_ you what I said.  And I tried to explain that to Samantha.  How I told William we needed to talk to his mother…but _then_ _William_ acted like I had just _betrayed_ him and Samantha…”  Oliver just shook his head, thinking about everything she had said...

“Oh, honey,” Felicity whispered, rubbing the crease in his forehead with her thumb.  It felt good, so good.  It gave Oliver the strength to keep going. 

Though, Oliver had to close his eyes for the next part.  “While I’m trying to _, at the same time_ , reassure Samantha that I’m not trying to _steal_ her son _and_ make sure William knows I _do_ want him, she accuses me of trying to play the ‘good guy’…the ‘hero’ and make her out to be the ‘villain’ and…” Oliver’s eyes snapped open and searched hers, “Felicity, of _course_ , I want my son to think I’m the _good guy_.  Is that so bad?”  He shook his head helplessly.  He really had no idea how to deal with all this.

“Of _course_ , you do.  You _are_ a good guy.  You _are_ a hero,” Felicity assured and he knew she wasn’t just placating him, but it was still hard for Oliver to accept, especially right then.  “It’s not your fault that Samantha has been lying to _both_ of you since the day William was born.”

“Yeah, well, according to _Samantha_ the fact that I informed William of that was me trying to turn him against her.”  But hadn’t Oliver known she would feel that way?   He’d _known._  And he’d done it anyway.

“What were you _supposed_ to do?  Tell William _more_ lies just to keep _her_ secrets?”  Felicity sounded as outraged as William.  At least, _those two_ seemed to be on the same wave length.

“That’s what William said,” Oliver told her with a soft chuckle, shaking his head.  Two peas in a pod.  He wondered if it was that both of them grew up without a father…God, _that_ was a depressing thought. 

But Felicity smiled proudly.  “He’s a smart kid.”  

And Oliver couldn’t believe _either_ of them.  How was he supposed to fight _both_ of them?  He didn’t even want to.  In fact, all he wanted was for all of them to _stop_ _fighting_.

“ _Too_ smart.”  This time, Oliver’s laugh had a helpless, delirious edge.  “ _God_ , the things he came up with.  I couldn’t keep up.  _Samantha_ couldn’t keep up.  He kept tying our arguments up in knots.  And then Samantha said…”

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.  Because this one really stung.  But more than that, it _terrified_ him.

Pressing her lips to Oliver’s temple, Felicity murmured, “Tell me.”

And he swore…her words, her support…it almost made him cry.  Oliver contained his tears, but the words had to be torn from his throat.  “She said…she said that the only reason that William had accepted me so easily, the only reason he _wanted_ to live with me, and was ‘ _pretending’_ I was his dad even though I’d never been a _real_ dad—”

“As if that’s _your_ fault,” Felicity muttered and Oliver didn’t even…  “Sorry, keep going.”

“Samantha said...she _said_ it was because I’m the Green Arrow and William was _obsessed_ with superheroes and he thinks that I’m straight out of his comic books and that…and that…” and this was the part that terrified him, “and that as soon as he realizes that I’m not a comic book hero, as soon as he realized the man _I really am_ William will…” Oliver trailed off, his voice cracking. 

Oliver couldn’t finish that sentence.  All the different scenarios, all the terrible ways that could turn out…they flooded his mind threatening to drown him.  

Felicity muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like, “that bitch.”

It shocked Oliver enough for his eyes to fly to hers, since he hadn’t heard Felicity use that word, well… _ever_.   Well, maybe with Isabel Rochev. 

But when Oliver met her gaze, Felicity’s eyes were nothing but warmth and sympathy, making him wonder if he had imagined the uncharacteristic slur falling from her lips. 

“Hey, what Samantha doesn’t understand is that you really _are_ that ‘comic book hero.’  You aren’t going to let William down, because you _are_ that guy.”

Okay, he was going to have to start blaming it on the exhaustion, because his eyes were genuinely blurring now.  “I love you,” he blurted out because it...he just _had_ to.   “But…Felicity, what if she’s _right_?  What if William thinks I’m some fantasy of a man?  I’m no Captain America.  I’m not even that asshole in the iron suit—”

Felicity stifled a laugh.  “Tony Stark.  And you are _so_ much better than Tony Stark,” she insisted.

And, Christ, it looked like Oliver was going to have to bone up on his superheroes now.  Because he realized he didn’t know enough about any of them to argue with Felicity, never mind keep up with William.  “I’m going to disappoint him.”

That seemed to be a certainty.

Sighing, Felicity’s face became more serious.  “Oliver… _sweetheart_ , you _will_ disappoint him.  Eventually.  Aren’t we all disappointed by our parents _eventually_?  It’s part of growing up and realizing are parents are _people_ and _not_ superheroes…well, except _you_ are kinda both.”

Now, Oliver wasn’t sure if he should laugh _or_ cry.  “I’m not a _super_ hero, Felicity. _Barry’s_ a superhero, I’m just—”

“You most certainly are superhero!” Felicity interrupted, practically indignant on his behalf.  “You don’t need superpowers to be a superhero.  You deserve that title _more_ than Barry, because you _don’t_ have powers.   You save your city…a city that, by the way, has a lot worse crime than Central City…with nothing but your intelligence and your strength and your skills, all of which you worked so _damn_ hard—”

“Okay…wow.  _Felicity_ …” Oliver actually couldn’t…he didn’t even know what to say to that passionate speech.

Normally, Felicity saying something like _that_ would have Oliver floating on a high for days, but…he kept imagining William yelling ‘I hate you’ at him like he did with his mom and it was…devastating.  Oliver would be _devastated_.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …God, I wish…” He wished that he could just leave it like that.  He wished her faith in him was enough, the way it always had been.  But now he was a parent and…now Oliver had to be so much more.  “Sweetheart, I am _not_ perfect.”

“Well, _obviously_ ,” Felicity laughed, but there was no reproach in her voice.  Just love.

Oliver almost found himself laughing too.  Because, really, the idea _was_ laughable.  No one was _less_ perfect than him.  “But if William thinks I’m…some ten year-old version of perfect…it’s a really long fall from that and…he called me ‘dad’ awfully fast.  And…” 

Felicity sucked in a breath, bitting her lip and murmuring, “Yeah, I noticed that.”

“It’s weird, right?”  Oliver had thought it was weird from the beginning.  He’d loved it so much that he had accepted it, but…

“I thought so at first…”

“And now?”  Oliver could see the wheels turning in that beautiful mind of hers.  Somehow, he didn’t think this path was going to lead to quite as confidence boosting as her last speech.

“Well…”  Licking her lips, Felicity ran a gentle hand over Oliver’s crown and said softly, “Now that I think about it…every fatherless child, and trust me I _know_ fatherless kids, has this _fantasy_.  That their dad is really out there, _somewhere_ , and has a really good reason for not being there.  That he’s a spy, or a _superhero_ , or a secret prince, and one day he’ll drive up in a fancy car or plane or _aircraft carrier_ and…tell them that he had wanted to be there all along, but he couldn’t.  He’d tell the kid they’re _special_ in some way.  And then their whole world changes.  It’s _Harry Potter_.  Or _Percy Jackson_ or _Hercules or Rapunzel or…_ even _Star Wars_ …”

His eyes just got wider and wider as Felicity kept talking and all he could say was, “Okay.  Okay.  I get it.” Because Oliver realized she was right.  Of course, she was right.  But what the hell was he supposed to do with _that_.  “Oh _God_.”

“Yup,” Felicity sighed, chuckling.  “You’re every kid’s dream come true.”

“But I’m _not_ ,” Oliver argued.  He was _no one’s_ dream come true.  And _that_ was the problem.  “And what happens when William realizes that?”

Her eyes were soft and her smile…Felicity didn’t look nearly as worried as Oliver was. Didn’t she realize that this was a disaster.

Then Felicity said, “You really _are_ the dream come true,” and, clearly, she didn’t.  “You might not be a Disney Prince—”

“Or a _god_ ,” Oliver scoffed as he thought of the list of stories Felicity had given.  Fuck.  It would be easier to compete with Captain America.

Still, Felicity chuckled.  How she thought this was amusing Oliver couldn’t understand.  “And William might not be a wizard, but you _are_ a superhero and the mayor and Oliver freaken _Queen_ …”

Yeah, screw up extraordinaire.  “As if _that’s_ a good thing…”

“ _Make_ it a good thing,” Felicity insisted and, again, her confidence in him was stunning.  “You don’t have to be perfect.  You just have to be _there_ for William.  To _try_.  It may be bumpy, but…you didn’t expect it to be smooth, did you?”

“No,” Oliver sighed, frowning.  That was the _last_ thing he expected.  And, being there, Oliver could do, but…. “I still think you are over-estimating me.  I’m already messing up this parent thing.”

Felicity was looking at him as if he was being ridiculous, her gaze so warm and confident and _adoring_ …it was addictive.  “Oliver, I really don’t think there is any such thing as the perfect parent.”

Yeah, well, what if William was _expecting_ perfect?  Oliver…at this point he would settle for _adequate_.  “I threatened Samantha with lawyers,” he confessed in a shameful whisper.  _God_ , he was a fuck up.  William had no idea.

“Good!”

Oliver’s eyes snapped up.  He expected Felicity to be supportive, but…he didn’t think she’d agree with that…well, pretty empty threat.  At least, _he_ thought it was empty.  The look on Felicity’s face made him rethink that.  It was… _fierce_.  She looked like a woman ready to wage war.  “ _Felicity,_ I just threatened the mother of my child with an ugly custody battle!”

“Yeah and it’s about time!” And, wow, Felicity seemed to feel pretty strongly about this.  “William needs to know that his father is willing to _fight_ for him.  _Samantha_ needs to understand that you have rights too.  She can’t continue to call all the shots.”

God, Oliver wished it was that easy.  “Felicity, I can’t take Samantha to court.  She knows I’m the Green Arrow.”

_That_ took the wind out of Felicity’s sails.  “Well, there is _that_.”

“And who are these fictional lawyers I have?  I’m not a billionaire with an army of attorneys on retainer anymore.  The last lawyer I trusted just tried to murder _all_ of us and the one before that is _dead_.”  And Oliver’s breath hissed as the last part flew out of his mouth.  When he realized what he’d said, a wave a grief… _fuck_.

“Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself for Laurel’s death,” Felicity whispered, that fierceness still in her tone, if a little softer around the edges.

Oliver clamped his mouth shut.  Though, that wasn’t exactly where the self-blame train was headed this time.  “I don’t.  Not really.  But I can’t help thinking…if I had made different choices when I found out about William in the first place…if I had come to _you_ with the truth and _we’d_ gone to Laurel then…” 

He shook his head.  Would everything be different now if he had?  How much had Oliver messed up with that _one_ bad choice?  One _epically_ bad choice.  They always talked about finding a third option.  Why hadn’t he done so _then_?

Then Felicity shocked him with a self-deprecating chuckle.  “Be careful.  You’re starting to sound like me.”

“ _You_?  What does _that_ mean?”  Oliver couldn’t even fathom what she was talking about.  And he wasn’t sure he liked the implication.  “What do _you_ have to regret?”

“ _Ha_!  So much,” Felicity burst out, making Oliver frown.  “But I think I’ll start with regretting how ended things…how I walked out without…”

Oliver didn’t know why that gave him a little thrill, but it did.  Even though he knew Felicity had every right to walk away like she had.  That he had been in the wrong.  “I regret not going after you,” he admitted.  “I regret not trying harder to explain, to get you to talk to me…”

“In my version, there’s less talking and more yelling,” Felicity confessed with a cute little wrinkle in her nose.  “Well, _me_ yelling at you.  I like the versions where I’m yelling and you’re apologizing…”

A bark of a laugh emerged from Oliver’s throat.  “I deserved it.  I deserved…deserve _all_ the yelling.  I deserved to be left.  I—”

“Shh…” Felicity put her fingers over his Oliver’s lips.  “Enough of that.  We’re past all of that.  Though, I _do_ wonder if I had fought you on sending William away…would things be different today?”

Oliver could only shake his head.  Because there _was_ a possibility that everything would be different, but that implied that _Felicity_ should have done something different when it was really _him_ who should have done _so much_ differently.

Finally, Felicity just sighed.  Looking into Oliver’s eyes, she stroked his cheeks.  “Regret is worthless if it doesn’t inform the future, right?”

_There_ was his genius.  Lighting his way.  Again. Oliver smiled at her.  “Right.”

“So, in the future, we do things differently…no, _now_ ,” Felicity’s voice was passionate and sure and Oliver adored it when she was like this.  She should _always_ be like this.  She shouldn’t regret _anything_.  “We’re _already_ doing things differently.  Aren’t we?”

“Trying,” Oliver agreed, giving Felicity a small smile, because he wasn’t sure if _he_ was succeeding, but he was trying.

“Oliver…you’re already doing _so_ much more…you’re being open and I...” Felicity’s voice cracked.

And, of course, it made Oliver choke up.  There had already been too much praise for him to handle.  He cupped Felicity’s cheeks and pressed his lips to hers.  “I _want_ to be better,” he rasped.  “For you.  For William.  For _us_.”

“Oliver, I…I said that you didn’t _need_ to change for me.  That I love you for who you _are_ , but…” Oliver held his breath as he waited for Felicity to find the words she wanted.  “Your willingness, your drive to _try_ to be better…it’s one of the things that I love most about you.”

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty…”_ It came out as a sob and Oliver pulled in for a kiss.  It was the last straw.  He could take no more.  He tasted tears and he really had no idea whose they were. 

Oliver kissed her desperately. This wasn’t a sexy kiss, it was...it was a kiss to show, with _everything_ he had inside of him, how much he loved and cherished her, how he _adored_ her.  How she was _everything_ to him. 

They kissed and kissed, drinking of each other, until Oliver couldn’t take the intensity anymore and broke away, panting, struggling to pull himself back together.  His forehead pressed to Felicity’s as all the emotions of the last twenty-four hours broke apart and reformed, channeling into everything he felt for this amazing, _unparalleled_ woman.

Felicity sucked in a deep gasping breath, her eyes still closed and her hand curled around Oliver’s nape, holding him close. 

“We’ll get your son for you, Oliver.  You deserve the chance to be the father I _know_ you can be.  And William deserves to have you in his life.  We’ll do our best to negotiate with Samantha and make this as civilized as possible, but…if Samantha plays hardball and threatens to reveal that you’re the Green Arrow, well...” Felicity’s eyes were open now.  And hard.  “You’ve been exonerated _twice_.  Once for being the Hood and once for the Arrow.  She tries to do it again, she’ll look paranoid.  She’ll seem flat out _crazy_ , going up against the city’s most popular mayor since—”

“Felicity…” As much as Oliver loved it when she went all Mama Bear, he was overwhelmed enough as it was.

“And if all else fails, there are always… _online options_.”  Felicity shrugged, that innocent look that wasn’t at all innocent written over her entire face.

Oliver laughed, incredulous.  “Felicity, you are _not_ suggesting you digitally ruin Samantha so we can get custody of William?”  The ‘we’ just slipped out and Oliver held his breath, waiting to see if she noticed.

Shrugging, Felicity pouted (just a little), “Only _partial_ custody.  And only if Samantha makes it _absolutely_ necessary.”

“I really don’t want this to turn ugly,” Oliver sighed.  He didn’t think Felicity did either, but, God, a bitter custody battle was the _last thing_ any of them needed.

Felicity nodded, her face serious.  “Of _course_.  But Samantha and, more importantly, _William_ need to know we’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

And Oliver may have used the word ‘we’ but it was Felicity’s casual use of the same word that broke him and he pulled her face back in for a hard kiss.  “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

Her smile was…stunning.  “I think I have _some_ idea,” Felicity whispered back, her tone lightening.

He _did_.  Oliver loved her _so_ much…but, God, before they got any deeper he needed…he needed to be certain…

“Felicity, honey, are you _sure_?” Oliver’s throat closed, as if his body didn’t want the words to come out, didn’t want to give her this out.  And, seriously, what was he _doing_?  Felicity was the best thing that had _ever_ happened to him?  He _needed_ her…

And, right then, she looked pretty damn confused.  Felicity shook her head.  “Oliver what are you…?”

Oliver swallowed, forcing himself to continue.  It was the right thing to do.  “Are you _sure_ you’re ready for this?  William…he’s a lot.  So much more than I had anticipated and…you’re only 27 and a ten year-old stepson might not be in your plans—”

Felicity slapped a hand over his mouth, effectively stopping the flow of words.  “Stop _right_ there, mister.  _You_ are in my plans.  We’re partners.  In _everything_.  So that means we’re in this together, right?”

The last part came out so unsure that it broke Oliver’s heart a little and he hating himself for letting Felicity question it, even for a moment. 

Oliver nodded, somewhat frantically.  Kissing Felicity’s palm, he pulled her hand away from his mouth and breathed, “Thank _God_!”

He yanked her into his arms, making her chuckle (in relief, Oliver thought) as he buried his face in her hair.  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Felicity whispered against his ear.

Oliver chuckled, the idea was so ludicrous.  “Not trying to.  _So_ not trying to.  I have no idea how I would do this without you.”

“Ha!” Felicity let out an incredulous laugh, “Because _I_ know how to parent a ten year-old boy?”

“You’re a natural,” Oliver assured, pulling Felicity’s face back so she could see his eyes as he said it, because he _meant_ it and he wanted to make sure she knew that.  He couldn’t come close to the beautiful words she’d given him, but he needed her to know.  “You’re just so empathetic and loving and _smart_.  William is way too smart for _me_.  Are ten year-olds _supposed_ to be this smart?”

“Like _I_ know!” And Felicity looked just as overwhelmed as Oliver did.  Why that made him feel better, he’d never know.

Oliver shook his head, bemused.  “He must get it from Samantha.”

“ _Please_!  William is a mini-you.”

That made Oliver catch his breath.  He had no words for what _that_ made him feel.  Even though… “I was _not_ that smart at his age.”  Or ever.

The adoring smile Felicity gave him made Oliver dizzy.  “I bet you were.”

Who _is_ this man she keeps talking about?  “Felicity, everyone knows I’m not the brains—”

“Oliver, you really need to stop with that.  Do you really think I would fall in love you if you weren’t an extremely intelligent man?  Sure, it’s a _different_ _kind_ of intelligence than me…and Curtis and Cisco and Ray—”

“Got it,” Oliver frowned.  Goddamn Ray…

But Felicity kept going, “But just because you didn’t build a super suit or design ground breaking technology doesn’t mean you aren’t intelligent.  Your brain works differently, but just as quickly.  It’s why we work well together.”

Oliver really wished he could believe that.  It was easier to believe he deserved the title ‘superhero’.  “The deans of four different colleges would disagree with you.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows and gave Oliver a pointed look.  “I thought we established that you _tried_ to fail out.”

“We did?”  Oliver didn’t remember that.

“Didn’t we?” Felicity made a twisty, scruchy face.  “Well, _I_ did.” 

And Oliver had to laugh as he realized she’d had one of those conversations in her head again and forgotten to tell him about it.  Maybe, it was a good thing he wasn’t as smart as her.  Sometimes, her brain worked _too_ fast.  One of them needed to be more grounded in reality.   

“You did admit to doing absolutely nothing…not going to class, not studying…nothing,” Felicity defended.  “We might have been drunk when you said it, but you _did_ say it.”

Laughing, Oliver shook his head.  “Maybe, but I didn’t _plan_ to fail out.” Though, now that he thought about it, “I didn’t really have much of a plan at all.  I just knew I had no interest in taking over QC and I resented that everyone expected me to.”

Felicity nodded as if Oliver had proven her point.  How he did that he had no idea.  “What did you major in?”

“Business.”  As was expected.  Actually, he hadn’t really felt there was a choice.  Oliver shuddered just thinking about it.  “God, I _hated_ it.”

Felicity fought a smile, surely remembering how bad he was at being CEO, but she asked, “So why didn’t you major in something you enjoyed?”

It was an excellent question.  So, Oliver wasn’t sure why he deflected, “Women?”

Felicity laughed. 

And she kept laughing.  For _far_ longer than the joke deserved.

Oliver tilting his head, not sure how to react.  “What?” 

“I was just imagining Moira’s face when you told her that you’d changed your major to _Women’s Studies,_ ” Felicity got out, hiccuping a little in her mirth.

Oliver grinned.  Now _that_ would have been something.  The things he could have done if he met Felicity ten years earlier.  William was _damn_ lucky to have her in his life.

He could see it, actually.  Felicity helping William with his homework, something that was probably way above Oliver’s head.   He’d be making dinner, reminding them that they needed to take a break and eat, relax.  Then one day…

“Oh God, I just had the scariest thought.”  Oliver shook his head, blinking up at Felicity, “If William is _this_ smart, what will _our_ kids be like?  With your genes…there’s no _way_ I’ll be able to keep up.  I…”

Felicity went completely still, her eyes widening and…Oliver realized what he’d had said...like _fully comprehended it_ and…shit.  Talk about _presuming_ …

“Oh…I, um…” _Fuck_.  Things had been going so well, then Oliver had to go and push the envelope.  Again.  Why did he always do that?  “That was too much—”

“Oliver!” Felicity interrupted, her voice high and…

He snapped his mouth shut, his eyes searching hers as Oliver tried to quell the rising anxiety— 

“Shut _up_.” 

Felicity crushed her lips to his.

 

_Revised 1/2/2018_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry to say that this chapter had to be split.  When it flew past 12K words I knew I just couldn’t manage it as one chapter any longer.  Chapter 9 is also be from Oliver’s pov and is most definitely be rated “E.” 
> 
> This may seem a little harsh to Samantha (and it probably is) but round about chapter 13 she will get to defend herself, so tune in.
> 
> If you haven’t checked it out let take a peek at **_Best Birthday Ever_** (lame title but too appropriate to not use).  It is actually _completed_ on this site.  A very smutty, alternate reunion with much humor and feels.  Stop by and let me know if you enjoyed it.  And this.  Obviously.  Because I love you all and adore your feedback. :-D
> 
> And, of course, thank you to my wonderful betas, **Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed,** and **Ireland1733**! 
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/ or Twitter, also Emmilynestill.  News, updates and sneak peeks posted pretty regularly. 
> 
> Emmy


	9. (Finally) Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter directly follows the last, is still Oliver’s point of view, and is most definitely rated “E”.  If you don’t care for smut, you can probably just skip it, but you’ll miss some mushy romantic stuff too.

 

 

 

 

Felicity crushed her lips to Oliver’s and…

This kiss was different from the others.   _Real_ different.

This kiss was… _carnal_.

It took Oliver off guard the way Felicity swooped in, pulling his head toward hers at the same time, invading his mouth.  Without pausing or asking for permission.  Thrusting her tongue…sucking…

_Fuck_.

Oliver was _instantly_ hard.  Exhaustion be damned.  He was responding before his brain had time to even _begin_ to process what was going on.  Moaning into her mouth, one hand threaded into the drying blond curls at the back of her head and, fuck, the other fell to her hips, trying to guide them…to _encourage_ them…as they ground into his…

Then…Felicity pulled back as abruptly as she had lunged forward, leaving Oliver dizzy…leaving him chasing her lips blindly.

But, _Christ_ , she was _gorgeous_ , all flushed and short of breath, her lips red and wet…

“Just so we’re clear,” Felicity panted, “you _can’t_ be too presumptuous about us.  I’m in.   _All_ in.   _Forever_.  Stepkids.  Babies—”

“ _Fuck_ , Felicity!”  Oliver couldn’t stand it.  He surged forward, his lips, again, slanting over hers so he could explore…no, _ravage_ her mouth with his tongue.  He wanted to taste, to _claim_ every inch.

For a minute, Felicity just let him, giving in.  But she pulled her lips away, again, turning her head so that Oliver’s lips dragged across her cheek.  She arched her head back, but, pushed her neck toward him, so his lips could suck… _God_ , she tasted good.  So beautiful…he’d missed her so fucking much.

“No more asking permission to touch,” Felicity gasped.  “ _Full_ permission given.   _Total_ rights to touch.”

Oliver laughed against her neck.  He could live we that.  Oh, yes, he could.  It would be…was glorious.   “Yes, Ma’am.”

His hands found the edge of her shirt and slid inside, over her smooth, warm skin, as he basked in being able to feel this… _her_ again.  God, he felt like an adolescent boy, touching a girl for the first time.  Each soft stroke felt like heaven.  

Felicity laughed, swooping back in to meet Oliver in tongue tangling, teeth mashing, wild kisses that were quickly spiraling out of control.

And her hips…her incredible, talented, _wicked_ hips…they were starting to get serious.  No more teasing little circles.  Felicity was pushing and grinding, moving in a way that made Oliver’s eyes roll back into his head.

Okay, Oliver was getting a little _too_ excited, too quick and… _but_ , damn, that felt good.

Oliver’s hands fell to Felicity’s hips, trying to put out on the brakes just enough to get some control back.  He tore his mouth from hers, fighting himself even more than her.  “Felicity, baby, we need to slow down.  I’m not going to be able to hold on.”

“ _No_ ,” Felicity whimpered, somewhat delirious and, damn, if the word didn’t go straight to Oliver’s cock.   _Christ_ , she was exquisite.  “I don’t _wanna_ slow down.”

Oliver laughed and he was pretty sure that sounded delirious as well.  “Baby, unless you want me to come in my pants like a thirteen year-old…”

Felicity’s eyes widened and she licked her lips.  Beard burn was already starting to show and, _God_ , it was an amazing look on her.  It was Oliver’s _favorite_ look on her.  Rosy cheeks and finger ruffled hair and heavy-lidded eyes, dark as midnight…

“No…no…I want…” Felicity gasped, shaking her head. “I want you to come _inside_ me.”

“Fuck!” _Again_ , Oliver’s eyes rolled back from the pleasure and sheer _lust_ those words triggered.  His hips involuntarily pushed up into her.  “ _God_ , yes.”  

He was _all_ for that plan and, for a moment, he forgot what he was arguing about and lunged toward Felicity’s lips.  She smiled, but then…her head jerked back, her mouth leaving Oliver’s as her eyes got wide and, well, just a little bit clearer.  

Felicity pulled herself up straight, her hands settling on Oliver’s shoulders.  “Just to be clear… the whole I want to have your babies _and_ I want you to come inside me—”

“God, you’re _going_ to kill me,” Oliver muttered, his hips pushing up into her core.  He wanted to touch her, to fill her…so _damn_ bad…

Felicity’s eyelids fluttered, a small moan falling from her lips.

“No, wait!  What I meant to say was…is…” Felicity seemed to be struggling as much as Oliver was with this _thinking_ -thing and, lord, it made him grin.  “What I _meant_ to say was…those two things are _not_ connected.  Just to be clear, I still have that IUD and I’m _not_ ready to take it out.  Not just yet, so I wasn’t…”

Oh wow.  

Oliver couldn’t even…he hadn’t even _begun_ to think of the idea of them getting pregnant.   Not any time soon, anyway.  But the idea…it was overwhelming.  

In the best possible way.  

Then looking at Felicity, unsure, yet hopeful.  Nervous, but excited.  God, she was adorable.  

“Got it!  One kid at a time,” Oliver panted, smiling like an idiot, because that was as articulate as he was gonna get at the moment.  And yeah, they needed to get used to this new family before adding even more members.  There was skipping steps and there was _skipping steps_.

Felicity laughed and it was dangerously close to a giggle (which she absolutely _did_ do when she completely lost herself in sex, even if she denied it).  “Exactly.  One kid at a time.  Babies are for future Oliver and Felicity to worry about that.”

Oliver smiled.  Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so wide.  The rush of love he felt… _wow_.  

“Future Oliver and Felicity.  I _really_ like the sound of that.”

Her smile matched his.  “Me, too.”  

Then Felicity leaned forward and captured his bottom lip in between her teeth, sucking until Oliver moaned and grabbed for her.  But she pulled back, letting his lip go with a wet pop.  “But for now…”

Felicity leaned back, crossing her arms so that she could capture the edge of her t-shirt and Oliver’s breath hitched as he watched in wide-eyed anticipation…that completely conflicted with the amount of experience he had had.  

But if watching Felicity slowly pull of her shirt and toss it aside wasn’t one of life’s highlights Oliver didn’t know what was.  Especially, since she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“God…fuckin’…”

That was about as coherent as Oliver was going to get before he…he _had_ to taste her.  

He half expected himself to fall on her like starving man and…maybe, he did, but years of deprivation had taught him appreciation and he pressed slow worshipful kisses across Felicity’s collar bone.  His hands spread wide across her delicate back, holding her to him as his tongue peeked out to taste, to _savor_ salt and skin and Felicity.  He breathed her in and swore to himself that he would never, _ever_ take this for granted.

But Felicity didn’t seem to be interested in Oliver’s slow pace.  Not for long anyway.  Soon she was bucking and whimpering, making her frustration obvious as she arched her back and threaded her hands into his hair, urging his lips downward.  

Glancing up at Felicity, his lips still in contact with her skin, Oliver grinned at her impatience, entranced by the passion written all over her face, in _awe_ of the blessing she was…

He must have lost focus, because Oliver made the mistake of loosening his grip, letting his mouth leave her skin…and the next thing he knew, Felicity had arched her back even further and…then her nipple was right _there_ , not an inch from his lips, puckered and pink, crowning her perfect breast, all plumped up from arousal, begging for him…

Well, _fuck_ …

Really, Oliver _had_ planned to take his time, but…if Felicity _insisted_.  

Oliver’s tongue reached out.  Just for the tiniest taste.  Her nipple bounced under the pressure.  It was hypnotizing, really it was.

“Oliver, _please_ …” Felicity groaned.

He couldn’t stand it another second.  Couldn’t think.  Oliver’s brain just…stopped.  

After that, Oliver really _did_ fall on her like a starving man.  Yanking Felicity close, his mouth enveloped as much of her breast as he could fit into his mouth.  He sucked and tasted and…it was _heaven_.  His whimpers and _her_ moans and the quick little jerks of her hips….

Luckily, when Felicity had arched back it forced her hips to give his poor cock room to breathe, so Oliver was confident he wouldn’t embarrass himself, at least.  Because he might not be young anymore, but right then…he felt it.  And it had been so _damn_ long.

“Oh, God… _Oliver_ ….”

He heard her as if through water.  He felt like his brain had gone into hibernation.   Oliver’s tongue swirled and tasted…every patch of skin he could reach, inching closer and closer to her nipple, until he was finally pressing it to the roof of his mouth and sucking…sucking in a rhythmic pull until her nails dug into his scalp and her moans were almost continuous.  Felicity always did have the most fabulously sensitive breasts.

Oliver pulled back just far enough that he could admire his hard work, Felicity’s rosy skin, glistening wet.  Her chest heaving as she gasped for breath, her puckered flesh tight with arousal.  

“Oliver?”

He threw Felicity another giddy grin before diving in for her other breast.  It needed equal treatment.  It was only fair.

But it was only a few moments later that Felicity took Oliver off guard with one abrupt shove, dislodging him and…

_What the_ …?  

“That’s…” Felicity got out through gasping breaths, “ _enough_.”  She pushed off Oliver’s lap and onto unsteady feet.  

Unsteady enough that Oliver had to grab Felicity’s hips to steady her.  “ _Whoa_!”  

She really was absolutely adorable.  Oliver could just watch her.  For weeks.

Felicity’s hands fell to Oliver’s shoulders and she smiled as she attempted to catch her breath.  “I’m fine...I mean…I’m…uh… just ready to move this along.”

Then she took two steps back (which was as much as the small cabin would allow.   _Thank God_ ), her back almost hitting the door as she hooked her thumbs into her sweat pants and pushed them to the ground and… _Christ_ …no underwear, either.  

“Fuuuck!” Oliver almost swallowed his tongue as he reached for her.  Though, he really should have been prepared.  There hadn’t been any underwear in the pile they had been given.  He wasn’t wearing any either.

Felicity let out a delighted, _breathless_ , laugh, putting her hand up to keep him at bay.  “Nope. Not yet.  You’re still…” She flicked her wrist as her tongue peeked out to ghost over her lips, gesturing to Oliver’s body, “ _way_ over dressed.”

Oliver grinned, his eyes flashing as he stood.  Because of the small room, standing brought them so close that only inches separated them.   He looked down at Felicity, hoping she could read the promise he was trying to convey with his eyes, enjoying _on a primal level_ the way she had to tip her head back to look him in the eye on her bare feet.  

He was close to eight inches taller than Felicity like this, but she never seemed the slightest bit intimidated by the height difference.  Oliver couldn’t even express how hot he found that.  He really did have a thing for strong woman. 

And Felicity was the strongest he’d ever known.

Grabbing the hem of his own t-shirt, Oliver pulled it off, slow and with promise.  But he shouldn’t have trusted that teasing glint in Felicity’s eyes. Her soft hands flew out and yanked his sweats down.  They hit the floor before his shirt.

And as he’d said, Oliver wasn’t wearing underwear either.

Felicity grinned wolfishly (a new and _damn_ good look on her), her eyes flying over his body.  Oliver had been worried about her reaction to the burned off Bratva tattoo, but she seemed to be a lot more interested in his cock, which was just _fine_ with him.  It bounced had free of the offending clothing and was now hitting her soft belly and…

Wow.

This was _really_ happening.  Oliver almost couldn’t believe it.  He’d given up hope and now…

_Here they were._

Here _Felicity_ was, naked as the day she was born, smiling up at him…

“God, you are _so_ fucking beautiful.”

Felicity’s laugh was husky and low and sexier than…well, almost sexier than Oliver’s poor overloaded brain could handle.  Her hands reached out, flattening over his skin over his pelvis, her fingers spreading wide, low on his abs, before dragged them up…

“And you…” Felicity licked her lips, her breath catching, “are the _hottest_ man to ever…”

She broke off with a whimper that might have made Oliver a tad smug, (though, he may have been glad Felicity didn’t see it.  Her eyes were totally focused on the progress of her hands.)

But then Felicity managed to shock Oliver _again_ , teasing, “So, uh, you gonna stand there and stare all day?”

Oliver gave a bark of a laugh.  Considering Felicity was just as guilty of _standing and staring_ as he was, it was a tad hypocritical.  Not that he cared enough to point that out.  “I’m savoring the moment,” he said instead and his hands found her waist, his thumbs lightly tracing her hip bone.  

Her eyes met his and Felicity licked her lips as her hands made their way up, over Oliver’s chest and shoulders, curling around his nape.  “Savor later.”

And Felicity jumped.

As in…off the ground.  In the air.  And _into_ his arms.  

Oliver caught her.  He would _always_ catch her.  And he loved that that she knew that.

Her legs curled around Oliver’s waist and her wet core dragged against his abs, briefly catching his cock before it sprang free and nestled, happily, against her slit, pressing up against Felicity’s ass…which Oliver was now cupping in his hands.

Felicity grinned at Oliver triumphantly, and grabbing his face in both her hands, she tipped it in the opposite direction to hers and crashed their lips together again.

Oliver moaned.  What the hell else could he do?  Except _moan_ and suck on her tongue and knead her delectable ass and stumble…?  

That’s right _stumble,_ Oliver Queen, _The_ Green Arrow _stumbled_ the half dozen steps it took to press Felicity against the door and get his bearings so that he could properly enjoy the way she wrapped herself around his body as they did their very best to devour each other.

Her moans were getting progressively more instant, her kiss more wild and less coordinated.  Felicity’s hand left Oliver’s nape and traveled down his back to clutch his ass, pulling him closer…as if there were a _closer_ to get, but his cock jumped and throbbed, reaching toward the warm haven that it’s length was pressed against as her fingertips ghosted over his hip and brushed his cock, pressing him more firmly up, against her wetness.

Finally, the kiss seemed too much for her and Felicity’s lips fell away, sucking air desperately into her lungs.  Her fingers, though, they kept up their torturous pressure.

And Oliver…well, he just moved on to the next patch of skin.  Tasting, biting, nipping, and sucking her chin, her ear, her neck…

“Oliver…Oliver…” Felicity gasped, her head rolling against the cool metal of the door.  
“Enough.  I need you.  Inside me.   _Now_.”

Fuck.  Oliver’s cock and heart jumped simultaneously with one desperate word, a bolt of pure pleasure shooting down his spine.  He didn’t think he’d ever hear her say anything like that ever again and now it just might break him.

Felicity’s hips reached for his as her hands clutched at him and she panted, “I’m _ready_.  Inside.”

_Inside_.  Did she have any idea that there was no sexier word?

“ _Fuck_ , baby, you can’t say those things.”  One hand flat against the door, Oliver leaned into it (and her).  He needed it to keep them upright and he wasn’t feeling the steadiest at the moment.  

But with his other hand, Oliver managed to trace her lips with his fingertips and Felicity’s tongue shot out to draw his fingers into her mouth.  

Felicity sucked them in with two long pulls before demanding, “Why not?”

Why not?  Felicity asked him ‘why not’ while she made him _mindless_ with lust.  “Because I’m going to lose it.”

“So?”  

Felicity asked it so plainly.  So simply.  As if what Oliver said made no sense.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty…_ ” Oliver dragged his now damp fingers over her neck, trailing down her chest, over her nipple…

“Let _go_ , Oliver,” Felicity moaned, her head back, her eyes closed.  “Take me.   _Fuck_ me.  I need you _inside_ me.”

Oliver would think she was _trying_ to kill him, if it wasn’t so obvious that the words emerging from Felicity’s throat were involuntarily…mindless…she looked as lost in passion as he felt.

Regardless, Oliver’s whole body convulsed when Felicity said them and he started to question why he was fighting her.  Why was he trying to prolong this again?

“ _Please_.”

Oliver shook his head.  There was a reason.  He _knew_ there was a reason.  “Not yet.”

“ _Why_?” Felicity whined, her lower lip popping out to form an adorable pout.

It was an excellent question, but…God, Oliver wanted...no, _needed_ this to be perfect for her.  He didn’t want to rush.  He wanted Felicity to remember tonight as an endless haze of pleasure.  A fitting beginning to their lives together.  Their brand _new_ start.  

Oliver’s fingers dipped down and slid between their bodies, testing her wetness…and, _God_ , she was _so_ fucking _wet_.  He was panting.  He couldn’t think straight.  He could barely suck in enough air.  His finger sank inside her and…

“I need to taste you,” Oliver groaned, desperate.  “It’s been _too_ long.”

“No…no… _inside_ ,” Felicity demanded, shaking her head back and forth, with little to no coordination.

Oliver’s breathless chuckle turned into a groan as his finger pulled back to circle her clit and her hips buckled.

“It’s too much…too _much_ …” Felicity whimpered.

But Oliver just grinned.  “You can take it.”  

Unlike his 32 year-old male body, extra orgasms for Felicity were a bonus…no, a _must_.

Still shaking her head, Felicity grabbed the hand between her legs, stilling it.  The message was clear and Oliver gave in… _for now_ …

Pulling back his hand, Oliver brought his fingers to his lips and sucked…God, how he’d missed her taste.  He found himself pleading, “ _Let_ me…”

“ _No_.  You’ve had your taste.”  Then Felicity grabbed Oliver’s face and forced him to look her in the eyes.  “Oliver…Oliver, you can spend all day tomorrow with your head between my thighs.  I don’t care.  Hell, I’ll _love_ it, but now… _now_ …” Her voice was suddenly heavy with emotion and her eyes teared over.  “Right _now_ is a really big moment for us and I want to come _with_ you.  With you _inside_ me.  The Orgasm Olympics can wait.”

Oliver laughed.  And cried.  He _actually_ cried, emotion choking him as he nodded and kissed her and whimpered, “God, I love you.”  And kissed her again.

“Inside, now?” Felicity asked hopefully, brightening.

Laughing, Oliver nodded.  “Yes.  Yup.  You win.  You always win, but…” He was _not_ fucking Felicity against a Goddamn door.  Not this time.  This time was too important for that.  

Plus, Oliver couldn’t guarantee him legs would hold out.

Wrapping one arm under Felicity’s ass, pulling her closer, Oliver slid the other hand behind, to span her back, and looked around the small cabin.  The bunk wasn’t much, but it was going to have to do.

Spinning them, with far less coordination than he was usually known for, Oliver laid Felicity back onto the bunk.  It wasn’t wide, but it was broad enough for Felicity’s torso to fit crosswise (barely) and it was tall enough (thank _fuck_ ) for Oliver not to have to crouch much (damn knee).

As soon as she settled, Felicity smiled up at him.  

And _immediately_ reached for Oliver’s cock…

Oliver caught Felicity’s hands, entwining his fingers with hers and leaning over her to rest them next to her head.

“ _Oliver_ …” Felicity whined, “come _on_.”  She wasn’t fighting him, though.  She was squeezing his fingers and looking up at him with anticipation that made his mouth water.

“Patience,” Oliver chuckled, breathlessly, as he moved his hips against her.  The head of his cock dragged over her pussy and Felicity moaned.  When his cock found the place it longed to go, he notched himself there and smiled down at her.  “Ready?”

Felicity looked at him like Oliver was insane.  Maybe he was.  

“Uh... _obviously_!”

Laughing, Oliver pressed a soft kiss to Felicity’s bee-stung lips.  “I love you.”

“Me—”

Felicity broke off with a groan, her eyes rolling back and her neck arching as Oliver pressed forward.  Slowly.  So _so_ slowly.  He wanted to savor…to _feel_ every inch as she enveloped him.  It felt… _so_ _fucking_ perfect.

It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, to keep them on Felicity’s as her face contorted in pleasure and her lashes fluttered and Oliver watched her undergo the same struggle to keep her eyes open as he was.

When he bottomed out, Felicity breathed out a happy little sigh, an almost relieved smile spreading across her face.  “Mmm…welcome home, Oliver.”

Okay, that was the sappiest thing Felicity had ever said and, _seriously_ , Oliver was going to start crying.  

Taking a shaky breath, Oliver managed to say, “Do you have any _idea_ how much I love you?”

A slow, happy smile spread across Felicity’s face.  “I think I do.  Do you have any idea how much I _missed_ you?”

Oliver grinned.  “Pretty sure not as much as I missed _you_.”

Felicity giggled.  Oliver would _swear_ it was a giggle.  “Are we going to have a who loves who, who missed who more, contest or are you going to make love to me?”

Well, if she put it _that_ way…

Oliver pulled back and gave a sharp thrust that made Felicity moan and gasp.  But that was really just to get her attention.  He immediately changed the rhythm to shallow circles, making sure the angle allowed his pelvis to graze her clit with every _single_ pass.  

It was guaranteed to drive Felicity wild.  Slowly.  There were some things that were impossible to forget.  Thank _God_.

“Good…good answer,” Felicity gasped, between panting breaths.

Oliver couldn’t help the smug grin that he just _knew_ had settled on his face as he leaned down to say against her lips, “Good, because if there’s going to be a contest, I’d win.”

Then before Felicity could protest, Oliver captured her lips again, coaxing them open and sweeping his tongue inside.

Felicity bit his lip…in retribution, Oliver supposed.  Not that he minded.  If anything, it just made him chuckle and kiss her harder.   _God_ , he loved her.

She wasn’t able to keep kissing him back for long.  Oliver knew she wouldn’t be able to.  Pleasure made her uncoordinated, far more than usual, and he _adored_ that about her.  The way Felicity totally lost herself in making love, gave of herself so completely...it was humbling.

Her lips fell away as Felicity arched her back and moaned.  Beautiful.  Every syllable that fell from her lips, loud or soft, incoherent or eloquent…had a harmony that soothed his soul.

Reaching under her, Oliver tilted her hips, changing the angle and earning a, “God, yesss _._  Right there…” and a, “Ah ah… _Oliverrr_ …”

And, yeah, _that_ just made Oliver grin even wider.

Felicity blinked open her eyes.  “So smug…why is everything…” She broke off to lick her lips. “…a competition with you?”

As breathless as it was, there was still a playfulness in Felicity’s tone that warmed Oliver in ways he couldn’t describe.  “Well, you wouldn’t let me have the Orgasm Olympics…”

Felicity huffed out a laugh.  “Postponed…I _postponed_ the Orgasm Olympics…” Her eyelids fluttered again as her breath stuttered and when her eyes were able to focus again, she accused, “ _You_ …too…coherent!”

Well, no one could accuse Felicity of _that_.  But her eyes were lighting up with a challenge all her own and her legs circled Oliver’s hips, pulling him in tight and squeezing…inside and out.

“ _Fuck_ , Felicity,” Oliver groaned, losing his rhythm for a second.  “Do you _want_ me to lose it?”

“Yes.”

Then Felicity did it _again_.  That _squeezing_ thing.  

And, really, there was nothing Oliver could do to stop Felicity from gripping him with those (surprisingly strong) internal muscles, so he just…

Oliver let his forehead fall to hers and he picked up the pace.  He couldn’t come first.   _That_ was completely unacceptable.  So…one hand gripped Felicity’s thigh, holding her legs tightly around his hips and the other clasping her hand…

God _damn_ , he was losing it.  Pleasure and pressure… _exquisite_ pressure.  Oliver’s eyelids slipped closed and he saw lights…

Letting go of her hand, Oliver brought a hand up to Felicity’s breast.  He needed to just…give her one final push.  His fingers found her nipple and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger and…

Felicity’s back arched sharply, her mouth falling open in a scream…

Shit!  There was _no way_ that these walls were sound proof.  Why hadn’t he thought of that _before_?

Oliver clamped a hand over her mouth.  “Sh…sh…sh…” he murmured, trying to say something more intelligible, but not really able to.  His hips had taken on a life of their own, thrusting and circling and his skin was tingling and he couldn’t press his body close enough to hers.

Felicity’s teeth sank into the meaty part of his palm and Oliver thought that she bit him pretty hard, but in his present state it felt like heaven.

She whimpered.  Then gave a muffled groan and her body went rigid.

Thank _God_!

Oliver let go.  Thrusting in earnest, he let his body take over, hoping, just _praying_ that it wasn’t _too_ hard…that he wasn’t hurting her as he chased…

Fuck…

_God_ …

Latching his mouth onto Felicity’s shoulder, Oliver muffled his own groans of pleasure as a light show went off behind his eyelids and pleasure rippled through his muscles.  He flooded her insides…

It really _did_ feel like coming home.  And Oliver couldn’t care _less_ how fucking cheesy that sounded.

And, for a moment, Oliver imagined what it might be like if… _when_ they finally chose to make a baby.  To know this incredible connection could create a child… _their_ child.  

_Christ_.  It was too much.

A minute later…or, maybe, many minutes later, Oliver had no idea.  But when he finally had some control over his muscles again, he leveraged his weight off of her and met Felicity’s eyes.  Her mouth spread into this smile…had he mentioned that she was his light?

“Hi,” she whispered and it almost sounded a little shy.  Felicity bit her lip and…

Oliver found himself laughing.  Out of pure joy.  “Hi, yourself.”

Felicity gave this happy little sigh, stretching out beneath him.  “That was…lovely.”  Then she paused, her eyes dancing.  “Wait, is ‘ _lovely’_ effusive enough.  It’s better than ‘ _nice’_ , but—”

“You…” Oliver fell back onto her, rubbing his stubble along her neck and his fingers along her ribs until she convulsed with giggles.  And, yeah, _tickling_ was another sure fire way to make Felicity giggle.

“Stop.  Stop…” Felicity gasped.  Far _louder_ than she should, given their circumstances.

Oliver’s hands froze and he winced, the full implications of their… _loudness_ occurring to him now that his brain was a little more…functional.  “ _Shhh_ …”

“Ooops.”  Felicity’s eyes popped open wide and the expression on her face…yeah, she was just now realizing the same thing he was.  She bit her lip, but amusement flashed in her eyes, a smile that couldn’t be contained bursting through.  “ _So_ …how thick do you think these walls are?”

Considering how clearly Oliver had heard William and Samantha yelling in the hall…  “Not very.”

Her laughter managed to escape from her closely pressed lips, trickling out and surrounding him.  Felicity slapped a hand on top of them in a valiant attempt to try to keep it in, but it did little good. 

Finally, Felicity whispered from, between her fingers (and between her giggles), “Guess the team knows we’re back together, huh?”

“Is that a problem?” Oliver asked gently, holding his breath as he waited for the answer.  He was happy to take out a full-page ad himself, but it was Felicity’s wishes that really mattered to him.

Felicity just shook her head, her eyes still dancing with mirth.  Her amusement was contagious, but just as Oliver started to chuckle as well, she gasped.  “Oh _no_! William—”

“On the other end of the hall,” Oliver reassured quickly.  He would have been a whole _hell_ of a lot more careful if he wasn’t.

“Oh, thank _God_.”

Chuckling, Oliver pushed back and started to stand, but Felicity pulled him back on top of her, wrapping herself around him, monkey-like.  “ _No_.  Don’t go.”

_Again_ , Oliver laughed.  He, honestly, didn’t know if he had ever been this happy.  Even on their five month vacation from reality, he had never felt this… _good_ in his own skin.  

“You’re ridiculous and I love you.”  Oliver pressed a hard kiss to her lips.  “Now let me up before my legs cramp.”

“Spoil sport,” Felicity pouted, but her limbs loosened and the smile in her eyes didn’t dim.

With one last kiss to her breast (right over her heart, because he really was a sap) Oliver stood and went to the bathroom for a washcloth to clean them both up.  Then seeing cups, he realized that Felicity hadn’t drank anything since she had gotten out of that hole and filled it with water.

When Oliver returned, Felicity’s eyes were closed.  She was still sprawled out on her back, looking like she hadn’t moved so much as a muscle.

Smiling, Oliver ran the wet cloth over her thighs.  “Sit up and drink something, hon, before you go to sleep.  You’ve got to be dehydrated.”

Felicity nodded and yawned as she let Oliver pull her up.  “You?” she mumbled as she took the cup.

Oliver shook his head.  “I probably drank a gallon while we were digging you out of that damn cave.”  Felicity just smiled as she finished the water and handed him the empty cup.  “Hungry?” he asked.

Letting out another wide yawn, Felicity shook her head and reached for Oliver as he set the cup on the desk.  “More tired.”

Reaching to turn off the light before climbing in next to her, Oliver couldn’t help but ask one last time, “You _sure_ you don’t want me to find you something to eat?”

“Sleep first.  Then more sex.   _Then_ eat.”

Oliver chuckled as he settled on the narrow bunk.  But narrow was just fine, since as soon as his back hit the mattress, Felicity was rolling toward him, fitting her head below his chin and her leg between his.  All as if it hadn’t been fourteen months since the last time they had slept together.

Fourteen _long_ fucking months.  

_Never again_.

Smiling to himself, Oliver pulled the blanket over them.  “Goodnight, Felicity.”

Her soft snore was the only response he got.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed that! :-D 
> 
> There’s plenty of smut still left for this story so stay tuned. 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you to **Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed, and Ireland1733**!  The longer I’m on this story the more frequent my freak-outs and flip-flopping about switching stories happens.
> 
> And a very special thank you to  **L** **aurabelle2930** for the incredible new art.  You don’t even know how perfect it is!
> 
> Thanks all,
> 
> Emmy


	10. Chapter Ten: (Dis)Belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

Felicity woke up to an unusually growly stomach and a very _usual_  craving for coffee.  But both things were completely overpowered by an overwhelming…coziness. 

In fact, Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so warm and content.  She just wanted to stay in bed and…

Except…

This wasn’t  _her_  bed.  The scratchy sheets were not Felicity’s thousand thread-count ones and the blanket was certainly not the down comforter she adored.  The mattress itself was kinda hard, yet…

Oh.

Wow.

Oh  _wow_.

Oh wow oh wow oh wow.

That was  _Oliver_  wrapped around her, surrounding her with warmth and comfort and…something  _so much_ better than any down comforter.  Something that brought tears to Felicity’s eyes. 

How long had it been since they had slept (and  _woken_ ) so completely entangled together?

This wasn’t just a spoon.  Even in his sleep, Oliver was clutching Felicity as if she could (and would) disappear at any moment. 

Okay,  _maybe,_  that was an exaggeration.  Oliver really only had one arm holding her to him.  The other was stretched out in front of him, allowing Felicity to use it as a pillow.  And while his bicep really did make the best pillow ever…poor Oliver.  That arm was gonna be  _numb_  when he woke up.

Felicity should probably move, for his sake, but it just felt soooo good.  Her back was pressed full-length against his front and Oliver’s face was buried in her neck, his breath puffing rhythmically over her collar bone, reminding her of how very… _alive_  he was. 

It was a  _very_  welcome reminder after a day like the last few _hundred_ or so.  

One of Oliver’s long legs curved along the length of Felicity’s and the other had slipped between her knees, effectively pinning her to the bed.

And that one arm that curled around her…it seemed to cover Felicity’s entire torso.  Bent at the elbow, the length of Oliver’s forearm was pressed tightly against her from her hip to chest, his hand gently cupping the underside of her breast.

So…while, it might, essentially, be only be that one arm clutching her like a well-loved Teddy bear, but no one was taking Felicity from Oliver without a fight.  Including her.

It made Felicity smile.

It really _had been_ a long time since she had been held like this.  Not  _just_  the fourteen months that they had been apart.  Felicity had forgotten how safe it made her feel.  How loved.

When they had first run away together they had slept like this, well,  _always_.  But, as their relationship had progressed, and as they (well, Oliver) had become more confident that Felicity would still be there next to him when he woke up in the morning, it had happened less and less.

It wasn’t a bad thing.  It had felt completely normal, just a natural progression brought on by familiarity and security.  How could _that_ possibly be bad?  They had started to sleep close, but not entwined.  Maybe with just one hooked ankle or a single arm thrown over a back or belly or chest. 

There would still be days… _nights_ …when  _something_  happened.  And, maybe, that something was just a nightmare, but…Felicity always knew it was bad when they woke up tangled so closely together it would be hard to tell whose limbs were whose…well, except her limbs didn’t quite resemble tree trunks, but that wasn’t exactly the point.

It had helped.  The octopus routine.  Helped  _both_  of them.  Through the tough days and the worst dreams.  It was just another thing that Felicity had missed in the dead of night when life had turned… _awful_  these last few months. 

But then Felicity had gotten shot and her lower body…well, the snuggling options were more limited.  What was worse, though, was that Oliver had decided she was made of glass.  He had started to tip-toe around her with this very obvious fear that he could break her by breathing the wrong way.

God Felicity had hated that, but…maybe, Oliver hadn’t been all that wrong after all.  Maybe, she had been a mere breath away from shattering that entire time.  Because she had.  Shattered.  It had taken more than a breath, but she had splintered in a thousand pieces and it had taken her a long time to put them all back together.

And, maybe, the chip in her back hadn’t fixed that.  It had allowed Felicity to walk, but it was just the first step in a long, painful process of fitting the pieces together, reforming them into something new.  Something that had had jagged edges, raw and tender for a long, long time.

But, maybe, she was  _finally_  healing.  Felicity felt whole in a way she hadn’t in…a _very long_ time.  She felt loved.  She felt… _happy_.  Once upon a time, she had teased and critiqued Oliver’s ability to feel that emotion and, now…she hadn’t even realized how long it had been since _she_ had felt the same.

Felicity snuggled back against Oliver and pulled his arm more securely around her.  Closing her eyes, she wiggled her ass and, oh wow, that was an…even  _more_  comfortable position.  Well, then.

Oliver might be more ready to wake up than he had seemed.  A bolt of arousal shot through her as his length settled into the crack of her ass.

The cozy warmth of being in Oliver’s arms slowly turned into a very different sort of heat and… _that_  was something she remembered extremely well.  Felicity’s skin tingled and she pushed further back into him, her breasts rounding, her nipples tightening, as her body became acutely aware of every place Oliver’s skin touched hers.  Which really was quite a lot of places. 

This… _this_  Felicity had never forgotten.  Not for one  _single_  solitary day.

Oliver didn’t wake up right away, which was a testament to a) exactly how exhausted he was and b) his level of trust in Felicity and their current safety. 

It was the later thought that made Felicity smile.  Lying here now, it seemed so strange that she had ever questioned Oliver’s trust in her.  It was things like  _this_  that proved it so much more than any words.  In retrospect, all the evidence of his inability to let her in felt so flimsy next to… _this_.

Felicity smiled and waited for Oliver to wake, imaging how his lips would brush her cheek, how he would pull her even closer and whisper sappy things that no one else ever got to hear.  Things that she never would have imagined herself loving as much as she did.

But when Oliver  _did_  wake up, it wasn’t with soft kisses and sighs.  It wasn’t gently, the way Felicity wished for him.

No, Felicity knew immediately when Oliver regained awareness because his whole body went stiff. 

And not the good kind of stiff, no fun sexy-times stiffness here.

Oliver’s whole body coiled tight.  He seemed to stop breathing.

Holding her breath, Felicity waited.  Long before they had gotten together that she had learned to be wary of panic attacks and nightmares, of Oliver waking confused and ready to defend himself.  She really didn’t think that this was that, but…he’d never forgive himself if he hurt her.

Felicity listened as Oliver’s heart started to pound behind her back, trying to keep her own heart from matching it.  Because she wasn’t really afraid that he was going to hurt her…not physically, but she couldn’t help but fear that waking up next to her he’d…realize he didn’t want to.

But that was stupid.  There was no reason to worry.  It was a completely irrational fear.  Right? 

Still, it was long moments before Oliver finally started to settle, his muscles loosening and his heart rate returning to a less alarming rate.  Though his hold on her, somehow, tightened.

O…kay.  That was…not  _new_ , per se, but…

Felicity took a deep breath (subtly, she hoped) and murmured, softly, “Good morning.”

She traced her finger lightly down the length of his forearm, he attempt to soothe (both of them, probably) and Oliver snuggled his face deeper into her neck, his short beard tickling her sensitive skin.  Felicity’s own anxiety started to fade.  Mostly.

That hadn’t exactly been a reassuring reaction to waking up with her in his arms.  Oliver couldn’t possibly be have second thoughts, but…dear God she would  _kill_  him.  She really, really would.

“Morning,” Oliver murmured and Felicity could feel his lips move along her skin as he said it.  But as comforting and  _arousing_  as that was…

“You okay?” she whispered and the arm muscle serving as her pillow jumped. Felicity turned her head to press a kiss on the bicep as an apology for any discomfort she had caused, trying to act normal.  Like she wasn’t secretly freaking out that he was freckling out.  “Other than a nasty case of pins and needles.”  She wasn’t sure if a joke was the best call, but it was her instinctual go-to.

But a soft rumble of a sleepy laugh helped Felicity breathe again.  It was going to be okay.  No need to overreact.  He’d probably just woke up a little disoriented.  Besides, Oliver’s sleep had never been… _event free_  and for all she knew it could have gotten worse in their time apart. 

Oliver’s arm flexed and the hand attached to Felicity’s pillow uncurled, stretching his fingers.  “It was well worth any pins or needles.” 

Oliver leaned in to kiss Felicity’s cheek (which was definitely more of what she had been hoping for).  Then he reached out to grab an (actual) pillow and scrunch it under her head so he could remove his arm.  The, before she could start overthinking again, he laid his now free arm on the pillow above her head and snuggled the rest of his body closer. Thank _goodness_.

“You take such good care of me,” Felicity hummed, tenderness threatening to overwhelm her.  All the subtle ways he cared for her…they left her breathless.  They made her want to forget her fears, rational and otherwise and just allow herself to sink back into the blissful comfort she had so missed.  But it wasn’t going to last, not without communication. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Am I okay?” Oliver repeated, chuckling.  He was trying sound lighthearted, but…really, he was fooling precisely no one.  “Honey, I’m so much  _more_ than okay.” 

His suggestive tone wasn’t fooling Felicity either.  Or distracting her.  Well, _much_.  His hand had started drawing slow circles on her belly and when it began to move up to the underside of her breasts…

“ _Oliver_ …” she pressed, before she really _did_ get distracted.

Swallowing, Oliver’s hand paused, seriousness creeping back into his voice as he said, “I was…it took me a minute is all.  To remember.  To  _believe_ that this is happening.  That we’re…back.”  He hugged her tighter, his lips dragging back and forth over her shoulder. 

Understanding washed over Felicity and she took a deep breath (a _relieved_ breath), pulling air in through her nose.  While Oliver was certainly taking longer than she would have expected to feel confident in their coupl- _ness_ , she…she understood.  She really did.

“Sometimes, I think…it’s almost easier to accept the bad things, than to believe the good ones are real,” Felicity whispered.  “Less scary, almost.  Less to lose.”  Did that make sense?  She kinda felt like she had just made less sense than Oliver had.

Oliver paused, pulling her even more tightly back against him again, his touch more soothing than arousing in that moment.  “Yeah…” His voice was thick with emotion.  “Yeah…though, I…I hate that  _you_  feel that way.”

Felicity rolled her eyes (though, it was of wasted effort since Oliver couldn’t see).  “And I wish that  _you_  didn’t feel that way.   _But_ …I need you to realize that…to  _accept_  that this started for me long before I met you, that  _bad things_ were happening to me before I met you…” Her throat was starting to close and she had to force out, “But you… _you_  are the  _best_  thing that has ever happened to me.”

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …” Oliver sounded as choked up as she felt and, perversely, that only made the urge to cry stronger.  It always had. 

Oliver pushed himself up as if he wanted to look in Felicity’s eyes, but then seemed to change his mind and he curled over her instead, pressing his closed eyes to her cheekbone. 

“Felicity, sometimes… _sometimes_ , I have no  _idea_  who this person you keep talking about is.”  Oliver huffed out a soft chuckle against her cheek.  “I just keep thinking it couldn’t possibly be  _me_ and—”

Shifting just enough to meet his eyes, Felicity dragged a hand over his face, turning it to hers.  “I see  _you_ , Oliver Queen.  I know  _you_.  Faults…numerous as they are…and _all_.  Do you doubt that?”  The man really knew how to make her heart _ache_ for him.

Oliver shook his head, eyebrows creased, his face not even twitching at her (pretty poor) attempt at humor.  “No.  No one has ever known me,  _understood_  me, the way you do.”

It was what Felicity had wanted him to say and she had no doubt that he _meant_ it, but…Oliver really was such a strange, contrary man. 

Smiling softly, Felicity stroked his cheek with her thumb.  Sometimes she really had such a hard time understanding how he got so _stuck_ on things. “Then…Oliver,  _why_  do you have such a hard time believing…?”

Capturing her hand and holding it to his mouth, Oliver pressed a kiss  _hard_  against her palm.  When he spoke it was muffled so that Felicity had to strain to hear even in the perfect silence.  “I just can’t understand how someone so smart, so  _good_ , could _know_ me and still forgive me…could give me  _another_  chance.  Not just after I lied about William, but after… _everything_  I’ve done—”

“Oliver, _stop this_ …” There was nothing more painful to witness than his self-hatred.  Would it ever fully go away?  “When are you going to forgive _yourself_?  Because I… _I_  forgive you.  Completely.”

His eyes closed.  A full body shutter vibrating through his large frame.  Then, Oliver took a shaky breath, lowering himself so he was once again behind her and Felicity couldn’t help but think it was so he could hide his face.  He pushed it deep into her shoulder until she could feel hiss scruff and his lips and the flutter of his eyelashes. 

“I thought I had,” Oliver finally confessed.  “Or, at least, that I was  _starting_  to forgive myself.  It’s just that…I want  _everything_  for you.  I want you to have the best life can offer.”

Felicity’s fingers gently stroked the tense arm that banded around her middle.  “And  _you’re_  not the best?”

“Not even close,” Oliver huffed, that familiar note of self-deprecation in his almost chuckle.

“Then we will have to agree to disagree.  For now, at least, because I am quite certain you  _are_  the best.” But, then, Felicity took a deep breath and gave voice to the niggling worry that had, _again_ , started to build again in her belly.  “Are you going to leave me because you think I deserve better?”

Because if Oliver’s default was to always fall back on guilt and self-recrimination, Felicity was to believe he’d leave her.  That _everyone_ would leave her.  And she really did worry that the two of them would be fighting those particular demons to the day they died.

“ _No_ ,” Oliver answered, decisively, immediately, before Felicity could even finish her thought, but still it felt like forever. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as his palm moved to rest over her heart and he swore, fiercely, in a deep voice that reminded her of the one he used in the field, “ _Never_.”

And…thank  _fraking_  God.  It brought tears to Felicity’s eyes and her throat burned.  It was insane that she felt as relieved as she did, but…it turned her muscles to jelly the relief was so intense.  “So…”

“As long as you choose me, Felicity, I’m here,” Oliver murmured into her ear.  “You have that right.  You get to  _choose_  me, even if I think that it’s a stupid choice.” 

The last part Oliver said in a light tone.  It was clearly his attempt at a joke.  Felicity thought, maybe, he expected her to laugh.  She didn’t. 

“What would it take?” Felicity whispered back, completely seriousness.  “To make you believe that I made the right choice?”

Felicity could feel Oliver swallow behind her, his whole body pressed as tightly against her as it was.  “Fifty years?”

In this, too, it was clear Oliver was trying to insert humor, but the raspy tone and…well,  _every_  aspect of his body language told her something very different.   Maybe, Felicity knew him  _too_  well.  Maybe, she understood bone deep insecurities too well.

But even so, it made Felicity smile.   _Because_  Oliver was serious. 

 And because fifty years sounded so  _damn_  wonderful.  Felicity hugged the arm around her middle closer and reached up to entwine her fingers with the hand above her head.  “I can agree to fifty years.  Though, I might need sixty.  Sixty years of waking up  _just_  like this…”

It slipped out before she knew what she was saying and Felicity’s mouth went dry.  She had slipped right back into where they had been in their relationship before it had all gone to hell.  When the goal of spending their lives together had been a forgone conclusion. 

But this relationship, the one they were in now was new and…Oliver froze.   _Again_. 

God _damn_  it.  Felicity was getting tired of this. She didn’t know how to pretend that she could think of being with Oliver that didn’t involve forever.

Then Oliver cleared his throat and murmured softly, “What about taking things one step at a time?”

Well, Felicity could at least take comfort in the fact that Oliver wasn’t going to avoid the hard conversations, right?  But…fraking ‘one step at a time.’  She was so  _Goddamn_  sick of that phrase. 

“You know what?” Felicity’s voice was stronger and steadier this time.  “You and I have taken a lot of steps these last two days.  Hundreds… _thousands_  of steps.  From one side of that damn island to the other.  Over mountains, around landmines, underground…I took so many  _damn_ steps in that stupid underground chamber that I probably left a path in the gazillion year-old magic rock.”

Oliver chuckled behind her back and it sounded a _little_ lighter, a _bit_ more relaxed and...this time, he didn’t seem to be forcing it.

So _,_  Felicity kept going, her thoughts tumbling out in a metaphorical mess, “I’m tired of steps.  I’m ready for non-steps.  For lots of horizontal,  _off the ground_ , non-stepping.”

Felicity wasn’t sure if that even made  _any_  kind of sense to anyone but her.  She probably needed to stop hiding behind the metaphor and just tell Oliver what she wanted.  But then she would have to make a decision.

Commit to a path, one that involved a whole lot fewer steps and a whole lot more forever.  And she…were _they_ ready for that?

But, then, Oliver made a decision.  One that involved his nose pushing away the hair on the back of her neck and lavishing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the top of her spine.  It was enough to make Felicity shiver, tension draining from her limbs as Oliver whispered against her, “I think I can get on board with that  _horizontal, non-stepping_.”

And, yeah, maybe, Oliver knew her better than Felicity knew herself.  Sometimes, it was a two-way street. Maybe, he knew exactly what she needed before she did.

Felicity huffed out a laugh.  Oliver was probably deflecting, putting off  _another_  conversation about how they wanted to proceed with this new relationship.  Or, maybe, it was  _her_  who had done the deflecting. 

Or,  _maybe_ , Felicity was tired of _talking_.  She wanted to  _do_.  To feel.  To connect.  To  _move_ forward.

Maybe, there was such a thing as  _over_ -communication.  Or, maybe, they just needed a little more  _non-verbal_ communication.    _That_  was something Oliver and Felicity had  _always_  excelled at.

“Mmm…”  Felicity hummed as Oliver’s palm skimmed over the sensitive skin just under her breast and his kisses made their way up her neck to find her ear.

Yup, she was definitely ready to connect in more pleasurable ways.  Felicity pressed herself back against him, again, feeling Oliver’s hard cock push eagerly against her ass.

Oliver gave the tip of her earlobe a soft nip, which Felicity knew was supposed to be a sort of punishment.  The sort discouraged her  _not_  at all.  Especially, when his full lips pulled that very same lobe into his very talented mouth and sucked.  And his tongue… _God,_  his tongue…there was  _nothing_  discouraging about that.

Those lips, that tongue...Felicity totally forgot what Oliver had been trying to discourage…or was it  _en_ courage?  His tongue started to play with her industrial piercing and,  _frak_ , the things that did to her…her thoughts were drifting…drifting right into the realm of… _non_ -thoughts.

The only problem was that Oliver had her almost trapped in this position.  There was little Felicity could do but enjoy what he was doing to her…except …

Oh yeah… _that_  was what Felicity had been doing, pushing her ass back, pressing against that lovely cock in those slow little circles that she  _knew_ would surely drive Oliver mad.  How had she forgotten  _that_? 

Oliver really was melting her brain. 

Then Oliver’s cock fell into the cleft of her ass and…Felicity clenched around him, making him moan…

The  _least_  Felicity could do was return the favor.

Reaching back, Felicity threaded a hand into Oliver’s hair…it was slightly longer, just like his beard and that… _that_ was awesome.  The perfect tugging length.  She’d have to talk to him about keeping it this length.  The beard length she was on the fence about but the hair… _mmm_ …

Felicity put that tugging to the test as his teeth and his tongue tormented her insanely sensitive ear.  By that point, she no longer had to put any thought at all into the movements of her hips and ass, because when Oliver’s hand dragged over breast, skimming over the hard nipple and the curve of her breast to curl over her neck…instinct took over.  No further brain input required.

Oliver’s fingers continued their journey until they made their way up to trace her lips and Felicity eagerly opened them to take the two fingers inside and suck them deep, swirling her tongue around them until…

He growled and bit the sensitive skin below her ear.  Then, almost instantly, Oliver was moving to lave and sooth the affected skin with his tongue and lips, repentant.  Such a contrary man.  There was a good chance it would still leave a mark, but, at the moment, Felicity couldn’t bring herself to care.

_Wow_.  This was another thing that they hadn’t done in  _forever_.  The whole leaving hickeys here there and everywhere…it had been... since the early days of their around-the-world sexcation, Felicity supposed.

Back when passion was so much more important than whether some random stranger in a hotel by the coast or flight attendant or  _whoever,_  saw their second-adolescence hickey body art.  When it had been fun and exciting and gave them both a little thrill that people could guess what they had been up to, that they knew who they belonged to.

But that wasn’t something Felicity felt the need to advertise to say…Digg or Rene or Curtis…God,  _Curtis_  wouldn’t be able to shut up about it and…

Oh God,  _Samantha_!  Frak!   And…what would  _William_  even think of it?   Would he know what it meant?  Felicity hoped not.

Felicity started to say something, to push Oliver away and tell him to be more careful, but…

Oh yeah, his fingers were inside her mouth, which kind of made it hard to talk, plus they were rough and delicious and it made Felicity remember how good they felt  _inside_  her and plucking at her nipples and rubbing her clit and…

What had she been thinking again?

Felicity opened her mouth to say…she wasn’t sure what, but when she did, Oliver dragged his fingers over her lips and down her throat, all damp and slow and sexy, and, then, before any coherent thought could form, those fingers were circling her areola and whatever protest she was going to make came out something like, “Oliver, hon…ahhh…ohhh…. _mph_ …”

So, yeah, real coherent.  

Also, Felicity had completely forgotten what she was going to say anyway.

God, it was amazing what this man could do with a  _single_  hand.  And, well, his mouth.

His teeth scrapped the length of Felicity’s neck…and then Oliver was pulling her nipple, rolling gently, but with enough…something.   _Something_  that caused pulses and shockwaves of sensation to shoot from Felicity’s nipple to her core. 

Felicity bit her lip and arched her neck and tried not to cry out, but it was so, so  _hard_.  Soft, incoherent moans fell from her lips almost continuously.  And just when she thought that she couldn’t handle the torture any longer, Oliver switched breasts and started all over again.

“Oliver…Oliver… _can’t_ …”

“What, baby?” Oliver murmured and it was clear that he wasn’t taking  _any_  of this as discouragement.  “Tell me what you want?”

But, see, the thing was…

It was kind of Oliver to ask and all and the question would be perfectly lovely  _if_ …a) Felicity had any idea what she wanted in that moment or b) she could form coherent sentences.

So, Felicity pushed her ass back and clung to the hand above her head and hoped Oliver would figure it out.  He always did. 

“Mmm emm.  Gotta tell me, hon,” Oliver persisted, in full-on tormenting sex god mode.  _Damn_ his delectable ass.

The bastard wasn’t going to give in.   He was going to _make her_ come up with something.

Whimpering in frustration, Felicity managed to gasp out, “I dunno… _more_.  Just  _more_.  Okay…” The last came out as more of a demand, then a question and she had to say she was rather pleased about that. 

Oliver chuckled, his face rubbing against her neck (she was certain that she already had a pretty impressive beard burn at this point) and his chest vibrating against her back.  But while Felicity absolutely adored his laugh, she wasn’t sure that this was the response she wanted.

“I think I need more hands,” Oliver murmured, genuine humor in his tone (a sharp contrast from the forced levity he’d tried for earlier) as he gently tried to pry his other hand from Felicity’s grip.  To torment her even more she was sure.

Felicity was giving that hand up when hell froze over.  It was her  _anchor_.  Besides…

“No.   _No_  more hands.  Can’t take any more.”  Felicity even shook her head for emphasis, delirious and frantic.  Oliver’s  _hand_  wasn’t what she wanted.

“But I thought you wanted ‘ _more’_?”

The  _ass_. 

Felicity should say that out loud.  Oliver deserved it.  “ _Ass_!” she panted.

She earned a burst of a laugh in response and had no idea if she was insulted or not.  The problem was…she was feeling too damn  _wonderful_ to feel insulted by  _anything_  at the moment.

“Just tell me what you want, honey,” and Oliver’s voice was just that, warm and thick as fresh honey.  All while he started to flick the tip of her nipple with rapid movements that he  _knew_  were going to leave Felicity a quivering heap of goo, completely incapable of intelligent speech.

So maybe ‘ _ass’_  was too kind of a word.  Or not kind enough.  It was hard to tell, really.

In frustration, Felicity shoved  _her_  ass back against Olive’s cock,  _hard_ , and when that still didn’t seem to get her point across, she threw her upper leg open, up and over Oliver’s.

“See,” Oliver chuckled, far too calm for Felicity’s tastes, “was that so difficult?”

Felicity might have argued with him if his hand wasn’t sliding between her legs, testing her wetness, which Felicity was certain was  _considerable,_ and then… dragging that fluid up over her clit, just giving her the slightest taste of the pleasure he could give her before repeating the motion, teasing her entrance with soft circles and then back to her clit again…

“God _damn_  it, Oliver!”

Oliver full out laughed that time.  “Yes, dear?”

‘Yes, dear,’ her round  _behind_. 

“Stop teasing!”  It was just  _too much_.

His face pressed even further into Felicity’s neck and Oliver murmured against her cheek, “I think you promised me the Orgasm Olympics.”

That forced hysterical giddy laughter to bubble up from Felicity’s belly.  “If we’re going to have Orgasm Olympics then we need to have more  _orgasms_.”

Felicity earned a full rumbling laugh for that one.  “That is an  _excellent_  point.” Oliver plunged two fingers deep and without warning, making her gasp.  His thumb fell on her clitoris with a firm, sure pressure.  “See, that’s why you’re the genius.”

_Ha_!  She didn’t feel like a genius at the moment.  In fact, Felicity felt very much like her brains were melting out of her ears.  It felt like…like her  _entire body_ was a pulsing ball of light, getting ready to explode and fragment into a  _thousand pieces_.

That was probably why the only response Felicity was able to give as Oliver began to pump and swirl and press with an almost  _superhuman_ dexterity was a muffled scream.

“Shhh,” Oliver immediately hushed.

And Felicity tried.   She  _swore_  she did.  She pressed her lips together in a desperate attempt to keep a moan from slipping out.  But it was so  _hard_ …pun, well, maybe a little intended.  God, now she was going to give herself the crazy-giggles.

Pressing his lips to Felicity’s cheek, Oliver murmured, “You need to be quiet, baby.”  But his tone was pleased and contradicted his warning.

And it was a hell of a lot easier said than fraking  _done_.  “You say this after spending our entire relationship telling me you want to hear me scream.” Which was not even  _slightly_  an exaggeration.

Oliver’s chuckle was warm and he leaned in for a nipping kiss at the edge of her lips.  “I  _love_  hearing you, but I don’t think I’m the only one who can hear you at the moment.”  Felicity knew he was right, but all she could do, at that moment, was whimper in frustration.  “I’m sorry, honey, but we need to get used to this if William’s going to be staying with us.”

Felicity would really rather not talk about Oliver’s son…his  _pre-adolescent_  son, while Oliver’s hand was buried between her thighs.  But, unfortunately, he made a very valid point.  She going to have to figure out how to control her screams, because she sure as hell didn’t plan on curbing their sex life because their family was expanding.  They had way too much time to make up for.

So, instead, Felicity dragged Oliver’s other hand down, the one she was already holding tightly, and latched onto the back of it, gasping her sounds of pleasure into his skin.

“ _That’s_  my girl.” Oliver’s voice was heavy with approval as he started to move his other hand, the  _active_  one, with more purpose…Felicity had  _thought_  he was moving with purpose before but…guess not. 

His fingers curled and thrust, his thumb moving, all the while, in perfect circles with building pressure.  Oliver’s coordination was a thing of beauty.

Felicity’s head fell back onto Oliver’s shoulder as she gasped for air and she let her legs fall open just the tiniest bit more as she gave herself over to the pulsing,  _blinding_  pleasure.

“ _God_ , you’re gorgeous.”

At Oliver’s husky words, Felicity forced herself to blink open her eyes. She looked up to see that Oliver was curled half over her and was watching her intently, staring down at her with a look of intense adoration.  It would take her breath away if she had any breath left to lose.

A half-whimper/half-moan fell from Felicity’s lips, muffled but unable to be contained completely.  Oliver dropped a kiss to those lips.  “Shhh…hold on, baby.”

He gripped her hand tighter, until they formed a combined fist and he pressed it against her lips.  As soon as Felicity latched her lips around it, Oliver doubled his efforts, quickly and efficiently pushing her right over the cliff.

Felicity pulled their combined hands even closer, holding on for dear life, as her mouth fell open in a (mostly) silent scream as she rode out wave after wave of pleasure.

Just as the pulses started to fade, Oliver shifted, lifting Felicity’s leg, pulling her hips back and…

“ _Yessss_ ….”

Her eyes rolled back as Oliver sank deep inside her, smooth and easy, the stretch just so incredibly delicious.  And…thank  _God_.  There was a part of Felicity that was genuinely worried that he would insist on holding out for more of Olympic nonsense…bringing her to peak after peak, trying to break some ridiculous record known only to him, before allowing himself any pleasure. 

And that might be fun.  At some point.  But now…this… _this_  was  _perfect_. 

It took substantial effort to convince her muscles to work, but Felicity managed to turn her face enough to look up at his face.  Oliver’s eyes were closed, his lip caught between straight white teeth, his face contorted with pleasure as his hips rocked in that slow exquisite rhythm, filling her with those oh-so-perfect strokes.

Felicity reached her free hand back to run over his flank.  She was certain it was with far less coordination than Oliver ever exhibited, but he seemed to enjoy it.

Oliver’s eyes opened and met hers, his face quickly turning towards her to press a kiss to her cheek, managing to brush just the corner of her mouth.  But the angle was awkward and the pleasure too much. 

His head fell back onto the bed, his neck arching as Oliver whimpered, “ _Felicity_ …”

She smiled, or at least, she  _tried_  to.  It was difficult.  There were so many muscles involved in smiling and all of hers were so very _relaxed_. 

Felicity hadn’t fully come down from that first orgasm, her body still humming with bliss, unable to feel anything but pleasure.  She let their combined hands fall from her mouth.  She just couldn’t hold them there any longer.

Immediately, Oliver was lurching forward, stretching his neck out to reach for her lips.

Felicity strained upward to meet him, grabbing his neck and arching hers in a suddenly desperate need to connect in this way as well.  She captured Oliver’s lips in a a kiss made up of a mess of lips and tongues.  She wasn’t able to get as deep as she wanted to, not nearly, but it was too delicious to let go.

It wasn’t until Felicity’s neck muscles completely gave out that her head fell back onto her pillow, her hand still curled into Oliver’s nape, her nails digging into his skin as she drove herself back onto his cock.

Oliver’s hand slid down her thigh, curving under her knee, lifting and maneuvering her so that he could…

“ _Mmmmh_ ,” the sound emerged before she could stop it and Felicity bit her lip before anything else could burst out as Oliver reached a deeper spot inside her, thrusting harder, _faster_.

Oliver growled his approval of the new angle.  Again, increasing the pace and depth and…oh  _God_ , the power….

Felicity squeezed his hand in a way that she might worry might be painful if it wasn’t, well,  _Oliver_ , and latched onto his forearm, in an attempt to keep the screams inside. 

And the _feel_ of Oliver moving inside her.  She wanted it to go on and on.  God, she’d missed it so much.  Felicity wondered how long it would be before she stopped thinking that. 

Grunting, Oliver’s forehead fell to Felicity’s shoulder as he pulled in grasping lung-fulls of air.  “ _Fe-li-ci-ty….”_

She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to respond or not, but all Felicity was capable was a whimper anyway, so that would have to do.

Oliver hand grasped Felicity’s upper leg and he hooked her knee into his elbow, holding her open as he,  _somehow_ , pressed his palm to her core and his hips…God,  _his hips_  really started to pound into her in a rhythm Felicity didn’t have a prayer of keeping up with.

Any focus she had Felicity put into _not_  screaming as the pleasure started to crash over her.  

_Again_. 

And again.  And, this time, it was to the sound of  _Oliver’s_  gasps and grunts as his legs started to shake and he pressed deeper and his face buried further into her neck and…

He flooded into her…and, lord, the whole thing was  _glorious_.  Simply  _glorious_.  It was so much better together. 

Felicity had once thought the simultaneous orgasm a myth, but not with Oliver.  The man was just  _that_  talented. 

“I love you,” Oliver murmured, soft and low, his words almost slurred.  His limbs fell back to their previous position, spooning Felicity, enveloping her in warmth, but heavier than before as they relaxed against her.

And Felicity smiled.  An intense contentment permeated her bones as she closed her eyes and enjoyed just  _being_.

Fifty years?  Yes, that would be a good start.  Every morning.  Every night.  This was how Felicity wanted to spend them.  

18,250.  That was how many nights and mornings that would await them.  It may just be enough.

She thought that she should probably reply to Oliver, tell him everything he made her feel.  At a minimum, she should say she loved him too.  But as she snuggled back into him, Felicity found herself drifting off in the haze that was this perfect moment. 

Thoughts of thousands more just like this tickled her dreams and Felicity fell asleep smiling. 

 

_revised 1/15/18_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful betas,  **Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed, and Ireland1733**!  And to everyone who takes the time to comment and kudo.
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/ or Twitter, also Emmilynestill.  News, updates and sneak peeks posted pretty regularly. 
> 
> Emmy


	11. The Morning (Afternoon) After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder that this is now AU.

 

 

When Oliver woke up the second time that morning…afternoon…actually, he had  _no idea_  what time it was or even what  _day_  it was.  And he couldn’t care less.

_This_  time, when he woke, Felicity was still sleeping.  And Oliver was glad.  Besides the chance to watch her as she slept (a pleasure he had sorely missed), it gave him the chance to let the waves of emotion just come, to adjust to them without having to temper himself.

Not that Oliver had tempered them before.  He’d been too caught off guard to try, but, regardless, he knew that an essential part of doing things  _right_  this time around was complete  _emotional_   _honesty_ , which meant not hiding the difficult stuff from Felicity  _or_  himself.  

Oliver was well aware, even if no one else was, what had led to their downfall the first time around.  If he had been able to face and open up with what he was feeling the  _first time_  he had seen William, _everything_ would have been different.  He’d sworn to himself (an oath he repeated to himself now) that he wouldn’t make that mistakes again, even if it was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

_But_ …Oliver was starting to feel like a broken record.   He was starting to feel Felicity’s frustration (as loving as it was) with his constant need for reassurance, his need to be told  _over and over_  that,  _yes,_  this was happening, and,  _no_ , she wasn’t having doubts.  That he wasn’t imagining the whole thing.

Neediness was never an attractive feature.  Plus, Oliver was starting to worry that it wasn’t helping Felicity’s fear of abandonment and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel insecure or question _his_ commitment.  

Pushing himself up on his elbow, Oliver gently brushed the hair from Felicity’s face, so he could really look at her.  She was in the same position that she had flopped into after their latest romp.  She had fallen bonelessly onto her stomach, immediately passing out, one hand and one leg tangled with his.

Oliver had just smiled and shifted closer until Felicity’s side was pressed to his front, ridiculously proud of tiring her out.  He’d planned to only rest his eyes for a moment but, well, here he was.

He was still in absolute awe and borderline disbelief that Felicity was _here_ , mussed and beautiful, signs of their lovemaking all over her gorgeous body.  

This was _actually_ happening. 

_God_.  Had Oliver said she was beautiful?  Because, dear  _lord_ , Felicity was beautiful.

Last night seemed to perfect too be real.  Too perfect for _his_ life, at least.  This wasn’t something that happened to Oliver Queen.  He didn’t get things this perfect and, if he did, they weren’t his to keep.

He’d had it before and…was it crazy how every perfect moment in Oliver’s life, somehow, seemed to involve this woman?  

But it had  _always_  felt too good to be real.  Oliver hadn’t been surprised it ended.

And now…how did Oliver fight for forever when a part of him was always expecting it to end?

Except, maybe, he had just answered his own question.  If Oliver couldn’t change his own expectations, then…they might be doomed.

So…he needed to  _change_  those his fucking expectations.

Oliver might always fear that Felicity would be taken from him, but he needed to have faith that it could and  _would_  last.  That they were endgame.  That forever was in reach.

Faith.  

It was what Oliver had told William he needed.

Taking his own advice was never one of Oliver’s strong-suits, but it looked like that was something that he was going to need to change as well.

Felicity had said that she loved Oliver’s drive to change.  He just wished he had a better history of success.  But this time he had to. This was _beyond_ worth fighting for.

And fighting  _was_  something Oliver was good at.  It had been a long time since he had been opposed to hard work.  Fight hard and work hard.  He could do that. Because he knew that was what  _real_  relationship…the relationship Felicity Deserved was going to take.  And he’d do anything.

At the moment, however,  _this_  didn’t feel like work.  It didn’t  _feel_  difficult.   It felt like the only thing in Oliver’s life that was easy.  Natural.  

Well, maybe, it took  _a little_  self-control to keep himself from kissing Felicity awake.  But even that was well worth it.  Oliver’s eyes drank in her face, soft and relaxed in sleep.  She was smiling and that…

The idea that Oliver could have put that smile there…it gave him more pleasure, more _pride_ than he knew what to do with.  

But he couldn’t forget that as perfect as life  _felt_ , curled up on this bunk with Felicity…their lives were far from perfect.

It was messy.  They had an insane number of responsibilities and those seemed to grow by the day.  The people counting on them alone…including a (not so) little boy down the hall, one who had been through more trauma than any child should  _ever_  experience.  

And mustn’t forget about the boy’s furious mother.  Nope, couldn’t forget her.

The urge to barricade himself in this cabin with Felicity and avoid the entire situation was strong.  Oliver knew that would only make things worse, but…

It would be  _really nice_  if they could just… _stay._  If not forever a…month.  Or two.  Hadn’t they earned that?

But Oliver knew he couldn’t even linger in this bunk much longer.  His bladder was calling, a really annoying reminder that reality was waiting for them.

Carefully, Oliver slipped out of bed and, after he relieved himself and drained a glass of water, tried to slip back into bed as quietly as possible.

He should have known that nothing  _this_  perfect lasts.

Felicity’s eyes blinked open as soon as Oliver settled back next to her.  She smiled that sleepy smile…the one that made Oliver’s heart melt in the cheesiest of ways.  Well, maybe, _this_ moment was even better than the one before last.

Only Felicity seemed to be able to top perfection on a regular basis.

“Good morning,” Felicity murmured, her voice thick and rough from sleep.  “Again.”

And the best part about her waking up…now Oliver could kiss her.

 “Good morning,” he whispered against her lips, leaning in to press his lips to hers, morning-breath be damned.  Mmmm… _definitely_ better.  

Her hand came up to cup his undoubtedly scratchy cheek and Oliver lingered, enjoying the slow slide of his lips against hers.  Felicity didn’t so much pull back, as let her head fall back onto the mattress with a happy sigh.  Then she scooted closer, fitting herself more snugly against him, her head finding a place on his chest, her hand pressing sliding over his side.

Embracing her gently, Oliver took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the morning scent of pure Felicity fill his lungs and soothe the sheer  _volume_  of emotions accosting him.

“What time is it?” was Felicity’s next sleepy question, coming many peaceful minutes later.  

Wow.  Peace.  Talk about something to be savored.

Oliver smiled and pressed his lips to the top of her head.  “I have no idea.  I don’t even know what day it is.”  And, strangely, that felt good too.  Freeing.

Felicity chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, nuzzling her face closer and squeezing him tightly.

It got Oliver every time.  As amazing as loving this woman was, being loved  _by_  her…it took his breath away.  It was also the thing that he never felt like he deserved, but Felicity seemed to disagree and that was something he didn’t think he would ever be able to fully wrap his head around.  

Felicity had told him that he was the best thing to ever happen to her and…it seemed like a dream.  It blew Oliver’s  _mind_.  It didn’t even seem possible.  But he realized now that he had been so shocked that he hadn’t returned the sentiment.  It should be obvious, but…

“Felicity,” Oliver murmured, smoothing back her sex mussed hair (fuck, was there anything more intoxicating?) to peer down at her.  “I forgot to tell you something.”

“Hmmm?” Felicity sounded cozy and confident and content.  And she should.  He wanted that for her always.  But Oliver couldn’t say he didn’t envy the easy confidence a little.

Oliver opened his mouth to tell her Felicity was the best thing that ever happened to, but…the words stuck in his throat.  

He had a son now.  It felt…wrong to try to…to even use the word ‘ _best’_  now.  How did someone quantify such things?  Ranking them…not something Oliver could ever do.

“I told William…” Oliver licked his suddenly dry lips as he realized what he needed to say.  “I  _told him_  that just when everything seems darkest, when it feels like life is too awful to go on, something comes along that makes it all worth it.” His throat convulsed and it was hard to finish, but he forced himself to.  “ _You_  are my thing.  Over and over.  When life was too much, you make everything…past, present… _everything_  worth it.   _All_  of it.”

Felicity’s arms tightened around him and she buried her face in his chest and he would swear he felt the wet tickle of her lashed against his skin.  When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were shining.  

“Oliver?” she murmured, her voice choked with emotion.  “I love you too.”

And the way Felicity said it…

It held so much…

_Too_  much…

He didn’t…

Oliver dipped his head and met her lips in a slow kiss. He tried to pour all the love he was feeling into that kiss because he couldn’t begin to put what he was feeling into words.  But the most amazing thing was the way Felicity met him stroke for stroke, emotion for emotion.  

He was  _never_  going to take for granted how lucky he was.

Lifting her lips from his, Felicity’s tongue almost seemed to chase Oliver’s taste, before biting softly on her lower lip and smiling up at him.  It was her happy, contented smile.  Oliver knew all her smiles, though he was always searching for new ones.

“I’d like to stay here forever,  _but_...”

Oliver grinned.  It really felt like Felicity could read his mind sometimes.  “We need to face reality?” he supplied regretfully.

Felicity wrinkled her nose.  “Well, right now, my reality is the strong urge to  _pee_.”

Laughing out right, Oliver loosened his hold and laid back, enjoying the view as Felicity scrambled over him.  He supposed he could have gotten up and out of the way, but that would have involved a lot less of her skin dragging against his and…what fun would that be?

Watching Felicity’s delectable backside as she rushed to the bathroom…it was one of Oliver’s favorite sights.  Her ass was a piece of art.  She didn’t close the door behind her and the intimacy, the trust that spoke to, made his chest clench.  The months apart seemed to just drift away, like they were just a bad dream.

And that little sigh of relief Felicity gave as she emptied her bladder, it made Oliver grin ear to ear.  Add that to the list of a million tiny things he had missed.

Folding his hands behind his head, Oliver debated whether they could fit in another quick romp before they had to head back into the breach. 

Then Felicity appeared in the doorway, pushing her wild hair out of her eyes…wow, he fucking _adored_  that look on her.  Her glasses completed it, for the perfect  _Felicity-_ _look_.  

Just the sight of her sex rumpled appearance, was enough to get the blood flowing back to Oliver’s cock.  Apparently, she was also a miracle to his thirty-two year-old libido.   He’d barely been able to get it up with Susan (but, maybe, his body had been trying to tell him something).

But, just as Oliver decided that they  _absolutely_  had time for one more quick romp (they had a lot to make up for), Felicity said, “Wow.  I’m  _starving_. How long do you think it’s been since we ate?”

So much for that quickie.

But as he thought about her question, Oliver’s jaw clenched.  A wave of rage flowed over him.  How long  _had_  it been since Felicity had ate?  “Unless Chase fed you,  _far_  too long.”  Possibly since the cake at Oliver’s birthday party and, God, that felt like an eternity ago.

Oliver should have insisted Felicity eat earlier, before they went to bed.  Just because  _he_  could go days without feeling hungry didn’t mean that she could or  _should_  go anywhere near that long.

“I’ll go find us something,” Oliver told her, pushing up off the bunk.

Felicity just laughed, putting out a hand to stop him.  “Oliver, I can wait until we both get cleaned up and dressed.”  

He didn’t miss the way Felicity’s eyes ran, appreciatively, over his body.  Neither did Oliver’s cock, though he really needed to settle himself down.

Or… _not_.

Oliver looked down at his very naked body and then over at her equally naked body, along with the extremely  _interested_  look in Felicity’s eyes.  

Maybe a real  _quick_  quickie?  In the shower?  Possibly?  It would be good to be as relaxed as possible before dealing with… _whatever the hell_  was waiting for them on the other side of that door.  And what would a  _few_  more minutes hurt…?

Then a slip of folded paper on the floor caught Oliver’s eye.  

“What’s that?” Felicity asked as he scooped it, stepping closer and giving Oliver an affectionate slap on the ass.  It quickly turned into a grope that…made him very eager to try his shower plan.

Oliver sent her a look (a rather  _heated_  look) and Felicity blinked up at him innocently.  That quickie was becoming more and more of an inevitability.  Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he opened the paper.  “Looks like Lyla has food set up food in the VIP lounge.”

“And look, she even drew a cute little map.”

Shaking his head at the things that entertained her, Oliver threw the paper on the bunk.  He was just happy that they wouldn’t be wasting time hunting for food.  

It left more time for… _alone_  time.  

Turning, Oliver pulled Felicity more fully into his arms, enjoying the simple pleasure of skin on skin, and dropped a light kiss onto her lips.  “Do you want to throw on clothes and go eat or…do you want to shower first?”

Please, shower.  Please, shower.

“Shower,” Felicity said definitively and without any innuendo (unfortunately). “No  _way_  I’m facing… _anyone_  looking and  _smelling_  like this.”

“I like the way you smell.”  And there was most definitely a suggestive hint to  _Oliver’s_  tone.  He buried his nose in her neck, burrowing it in the wild curls.  

_God_ , she smelled good.  Like sex and Felicity.  Nothing better.  

Laughing, Felicity pushed at him (though not hard enough to actually move him).  “I know  _you_  like it.  It doesn’t even matter if it smells good.  It is  _not_  how I want to face Curtis and Rene and…good lord,  _Samantha_.”

Okay.  Yeah…Felicity had a point there.  A good one.

“Case made,” Oliver muttered, wincing at the unwelcome image that her words brought to mind.  But it only made him want to delay their leaving this room for as long as possible.  When he met Felicity’s eyes again he couldn’t help but grin. “So…shower?”

“Not  _together_!” Felicity gasped, laughing.  As if that was the first time she had thought of the idea.  Which Oliver doubted.  “You insatiable…”

Felicity trailed off as Oliver grinned wider, pulling her closer so that she could see just how  _insatiable_  he was.  It felt amazing to feel this way again.  It had been too damn long.  It made him feel young again.  Alive.

Besides, Oliver had been called a lot of things in his life and insatiable for this woman…one of his favorites.

“You insatiable…what?” Oliver prompted, looking forward to whatever ridiculous turn of phrase Felicity came up.

But Felicity just frowned, scrunching her nose up at him.  “I can’t think of anything.”  And that was even better.  Oliver laughed and got an even firmer push for the offense.  “Clearly, you’ve scrambled my brain, you smug bastard.”

Oliver still couldn’t find it in him to be insulted.  Actually, he always found it completely adorable and inescapably sexy when Felicity called him names.

Didn’t hurt that, most often, Felicity did it in response to Oliver’s teasing in the bedroom.  And there was almost never any _real_ malice behind t.

“You’re just hungry.  Let’s get you something to eat.”  Oliver grabbed Felicity’s hand and pulled her toward the bathroom.  Though calling that space a ‘ _room’_  was being awfully generous.  Would they both even be able to fit in there?  They would have to stand _awfully_ close together.

Mmmm…the possibilities…

“ _Oh_ , no,” Felicity yanked her hand from Oliver’s grip.  “No no no.  If you come in there with me, we’re never getting out of here.”

Oliver played dumb, something he was rather good at.  It was the one act he had perfected.  “What?  It’s more efficient if we shower together.”  He skimmed his hands over Felicity’s waist, pulling her back into his arms.

“Yeah,  _right_ ,” Felicity laughed, trying to shove away Oliver’s wandering hands.  She wasn’t very effective at it.

“We can be quick,” Oliver insisted.  He even threw in the puppy-dog eyes.  Go big or go home, right?

But this time, Felicity refused to even look him in the eye.  She just gave one last  _hard_  push and, groaning, he let her go.  “Oliver!  I’m just going to take a really  _fast_  shower…don’t you pout at me.”  He really hadn’t been.  Much.  “Just give me Five.”  

And, then, Felicity disappeared into the small room, closing the door behind her.

Well, _damn_.

Blowing out a breath, Oliver grunted and flopped on the bunk onto back.  Now what?   He, honestly, couldn’t think of a thing to do in this stupid tiny room without Felicity.

Oliver settled for counting down those five minutes.

And when done counting, all 300 seconds…well, Oliver felt  _fully_  justified in joining Felicity in the bathroom.  

Or the shower.  To…check on her.  Or hurry her up.  

Or  _whatever_.

Felicity was finger-combing her soaking wet hair as the shower rained down on her upturned face when Oliver slipped inside the tiny room.  He took a minute to admire her (which got her up to 6 minutes so… _more than_  fair) before opening the door to the shower and stepping inside.  

Her eyes cracked open…

“ _Oliver_!”

Felicity jumped when she saw him and Oliver had to grab her waist so she didn’t slip (not that there was far to slip to).

Giving her his most flirtatious smile, Oliver closed the door behind him and (very purposely) crowded Felicity into the small space.  “Your five minutes are up.”

“ _Uchh_ ,” Felicity grunted as he pulled her body to him.  “We’re never going to get food at this rate.”  

Oliver would have felt guilty about that (he really needed to get her food), but the way she arched into him and presented her neck for his lips was in direct opposition to her words.  Besides, he had every intention of being efficient.

“Sure, we will.  I can be fast.”

“ _Ol-i-ver_ ,” Felicity whined as he sucked on her collarbone and she threaded her hands into his quickly damping hair.  “I’m  _hungry_.”

_That_  was too good to pass up.  

“Me too,” Oliver drawled, sinking to his knees.

This time, Felicity’s laugh was incredulous.  “ _Oliver_!” She seemed to really like saying his name.  Worked for him.  “That is so  _not_  quick!”

“You doubt me?” he teased, pulling Felicity’s leg over his shoulder and pressing her against the wall.  There really wasn’t a lot of room, but he could totally work with it.  “Besides, you promised I could spend all day buried between your thighs.”  And, unfortunately, Oliver was  _well_  aware that he wasn’t getting _that_ any time soon.  God _damn_  responsibilities.  “All I’m asking for is a taste.”

Then before Felicity could protest further, Oliver dived in and…well, no one was protesting then.

Oliver had to say, he was rather glad that he had decided to press the issue.  He had _seriously_ missed this.  He loved the way Felicity tasted, the way her legs trembled beneath his hands, the noises that escaped, even though… _especially since_  she was clearly trying her damnedest to muffle them.

He didn’t wait and tease and try to build the slow, perfect orgasm.  Though, that really did go against all of Oliver’s instincts.  But he promised quick, so quick Felicity would get.  She needed to  _eat_.  So a fast,  _hard_  orgasm it was.

After a quick taste, Oliver settled his lips over her clit for a soft, rhythmic suckle as his fingers slipped inside to press against that spongy tissue that he just  _knew_  would drive her crazy.  

It did.

And it really  _didn’t_  take long.  Oliver was going to have to do this again after they got her fed.   _Soon_.  And next time he was going to take his time.  Savor her.  Relearn  _every_  nook and cranny.

But, for now, at least, Oliver succeeded in making Felicity come  _hard_.  He thought she hit her head on the wall, which he _was_ sorry about, but his arm reach just wasn’t long enough that he could do anything about it.  He also wasn’t able to help her muffle her scream so…

Well, Oliver just hoped that whoever was next to them was already at breakfast…or lunch…or whatever.

When Felicity shoved Oliver’s face away, he knew that she was too sensitive for any more stimulation and he gently eased her shaky leg off his shoulder and climbed to his feet.   His knee ached like hell, but it was worth it.  In fact, he was sure that he was grinning like a madman.

Felicity’s eyes were glassy and unfocused and she just looked… _wrecked_.  It just made Oliver grin harder.  

“Come ‘mere.”  Felicity mumbled, grabbing Oliver by his hips, pulling him close as she came up on her toes and stretched toward his lips.

Even on her toes Felicity wasn’t tall enough to reach and would never make it if Oliver didn’t meet her halfway.  Why on  _Earth_  wouldn’t he meet her half-way?  

But her kiss…it was more than Oliver had expected.  Felicity met him with a passion that was _dizzying_.  

Tongue and teeth and…Felicity tried to fling a leg around his waist, but Oliver caught it.  Tearing his mouth from hers, he panted (regretfully), “Honey, we don’t have time for anymore.”  He needed to get her fed.

Felicity looked adorably confused.  “But…but…what about _you_?”

She was so fricken cute.  

“I’m fine.”

Eyes flying down to where his  _very_  hard cock was sandwiched between their bodies, Felicity arched an eyebrow at him.  “ _Really_?  I’m pretty sure you walking in with  _that_  would be worse than me showing up with sex hair.”

Felicity was hysterical.  A real comedian, really.  

Oliver barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes.  As if he didn’t have complete control over his body.   _Please_.  “I’ll just—”

Oliver didn’t have a chance to finish that sentence…that  _thought_ , even, before Felicity’s hand closed around his cock.  

Then before Oliver could get used to the soft pressure…or offer up a protest, Felicity was pouring on liquid soap directly over his cock and…pumping and twisting and…he had no words.  

Literally.  Oliver  _could not form words_.

But, apparently, Felicity could.  “I’ll be quick,” she told him, all sass and vinegar now as she grinned up at him, her eyes shining.  “And it’s  _efficient_ , since you need to get washed up anyway.”

Her left hand wandered over Oliver’s body to demonstrate, spreading the soapy bubbles, ending on his ass as Felicity squeezed and pressed against him and sped up the rhythm…

It really  _didn’t_  take long.

Oliver would have been embarrassed how quick it was, actually.  If it was under any other circumstances.  But, today, it made Felicity grin happily and took care of his (not so) little problem faster and a  _hell_  of a lot more pleasurably than a cold shower.  

After, they helped each other rinse off and Felicity stepped out of the shower as Oliver hurriedly soaped up his hair.

It was probably only minutes before they were walking down the hall in their ARGUS-issue sweats and slipper socks (which Oliver thought were  _absolutely_  ridiculous, but Felicity was horrified by the thought of  _either_  bare feet or him wearing his filthy combat boots, so here he was).

The lounge was larger than Oliver expected, with clusters of chairs and sofas and two large round tables set up to eat at.  Though, the only one sitting to eat was Samantha, who was less _eating_ and more scowling down at her food as she pushed it around her plate.  

Looked like  _her_  mood hadn’t improved.  Fabulous.

Oliver scanned the room for…he found William sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the couches on the other side of the room.  He had a tray of food on a coffee table next to him, but he seemed to be paying absolutely no attention to what looked like a nutritious breakfast and, instead, stared down at a tablet he held.  Despite having apparently found something to distract him, William looked about as happy as his mother.

Fuck.  

Into the breach then.

Oliver must have been rather easy to read, because Felicity squeezed his fingers and whispered, “Come get something to eat first.  This will be easier to manage on a full stomach.”

He really doubted that.  In fact, Oliver thought it might just make him feel like vomiting.  But it was a reprieve, at the very least, and this wasn’t a problem that was going away anytime soon, so he allowed Felicity to pull him over to where the food was set up in a large buffet.

Felicity made a bee-line for the coffee, which was where Thea, Curtis, Rene and Dinah had congregated with…a woman Oliver didn’t recognize.  

Letting go his hand, Felicity all but lunged at the coffee machine with a moan of, “Come to mama.”

Oliver would have laughed if he wasn’t feeling so tense enough that he thought smiling just might snap him two.  But standing there brooding wasn’t going to do him any good either, so he turned to his sister and put an arm around her shoulder, placing a kiss on her freshly washed hair.  

Thea slipped into his arms easily, laying her head on his chest in an exhausted sag, yawning.  She seemed a whole lot more tired than Oliver would have expected given—

Oliver did a double take.  “ _Nyssa_?”

Dressed in her own matching ARGUS sweats, free of make-up, and with her hair up in a messy bun, the woman looked  _nothing_  like the assassin Oliver knew.

Except, then she looked up at Oliver, over her coffee cup and smirked and, ok, yeah,  _that_  was Nyssa Al Ghul.

“Husband,” Nyssa acknowledged with a nod, then before Oliver could argue, she nodded to Felicity.  “Future sister wife.”

Okay…what the…“ _What_?”

Turning to him as she stirred her coffee, Felicity rolled her eyes and grunted, “Nyssa’s embracing the League’s tradition of polyamory.  Or is it polygamy?” She shrugged, shaking her head as she focused on her coffee, which she seemed to feel was far more important. Oliver wanted to tell her not to drink so fast, but thought it might get him slapped and  _more importantly_ …

Oliver narrowed his eyes at Nyssa, because…what the  _fuck_?  “No.  Just  _no_.”

Thea chuckled against his t-shirt, pulling back to look up at him and tease, “It’s cute that you think you have a say.”

Oliver sure as  _hell_  had a say.  It his… _non_ -marriage and he had no intention of sharing it with any… _future_ marriage.  So,  _no_.  

But, maybe, they could deal with that later.  The bags under his sister’s eyes needed his attention now.  “You sleep okay?” he whispered.

The smirk that had formed on Thea’s lips fell away…

_Fuck_.  Oliver’s stomach sank.  Uh oh.

“No, thanks to  _you_ ,” Thea sing-songed, her eyes dancing.  It was a diversion.  But a _damn_ good one.  Oliver knew that look in her eye.  It was terrifying.  

“Oh  _God_ ,” Felicity whimpered, her eyes squeezing shut.  “You were in the room next to ours?”

“Nope,” Dinah piped up, popping the ‘p’ in a dry drawl as she raised her hand.  “That would be _me_.”

“And  _me_ ,” Curtis added, “on the other side.”  He had a big stupid grin on his face that Oliver would have ignored, except for a roll of his eyes, but poor Felicity blushed to her roots, so he kind of wanted to pop Curtis one.  

Oliver couldn’t even comfort her, having his arms full of exhausted, ready-to-torment, sister.  

“I was two doors down and I  _still_  heard you.  And let me tell  _you_ , I’m scarred for life,” Thea added, though, she actually seemed totally delighted and was clearly enjoying every second of both of their discomfort.

“You’ll get over it.”  Oliver sent his sister a frown and reached out to run a soothing hand over Felicity’s shoulder as she let out another embarrassed whimper, letting her head fall forward so her hair fell over her glasses and hid her face.

“Yeah, and,  _wow_ , blondie…” Rene started in and Oliver immediately tensed, because while Rene’s cabin had been on the other end of the hallway, _his_ teasing always put the others to shame.  It could be brutal.  “Did you get hit with more debris than we thought?  I thought you were clear of the rock shower?”

Oliver’s eyes snapped to Felicity, his eyes flying over her, looking for injuries, but…

_Fuck_.  He really was an idiot.  He really was, because he should have known…Oliver should have guessed the next words out of Rene’s mouth.

“All those bruises on your neck, you really must have gotten it bad.”

And…Rene was _going_ to get his ass kicked.

Felicity slapped a hand over her neck to a chorus of chuckles and guffaws.  

Yeah, so… _maybe_ , Oliver had been a tad too enthusiastic last night.  And this morning.  “I’m sorry,” he mouthed as soon as Felicity looked up and he was able to catch her eye.

But, then, Felicity let out a long-suffering sigh and sent Oliver an ironic smile, flicking her wrist dismissively at their friends.  “Whatever.  I’m too hungry to deal with any of you.”

Grabbing a plate and what was left of the coffee she had just gulped, Feliciy held her head high and headed over to the food.  Left behind, Oliver decided that he was going to deal with this by sending the assholes a smug/proud look, giving his sister one more forehead kiss, and following his girl.

Sidling up next to Felicity as she spooned out some sort of egg bake, Oliver whispered, “Are you okay?” Though she looked pretty okay to him.  But it  _was_  his fault.  If he hadn’t been so into the nibbling and the sucking and…

Felicity sent Oliver a small smile and directed an eye-roll at their friends.  “It’s fine.  The team’s just being…the team.”  

Taking a relieved breath, Oliver nodded.  Honestly, he really couldn’t care less about the teasing as long as it didn’t bother Felicity.  He had a hell of a lot more important things to worry about than the team ribbing them over a night of fantastic sex.

Actually, there was nothing about his night with Felicity that didn’t put an enormous smile on Oliver’s face.  Tease away.

But, unfortunately, life outside their cabin was a hell of a lot more complicated.

“Now  _them_ …” Felicity whispered, gesturing subtly to Samantha and William (and, once again, proving that she could read his mind). “I don’t…” She sighed.  “What’s the plan to deal with  _them_?”

Fuck.   It would be better if they had a plan, wouldn’t it?  Maybe, Oliver should have considered that while he was…trying really hard  _not_  to think about that.  

Instinctively, Oliver wanted to go to William, to see if he was okay, but…

“I’ll try to talk to Samantha,” Oliver finally said.  He would rather eat nails, but it had to be done.  “Maybe, if I can convince her that I’m not planning to  _steal_  William from her she’ll be more willing to compromise.”  He glanced behind him at his son’s sullen form and then back at Felicity.  “Can you try and talk to William?   The only time he perks up and acts like a normal kid is when he’s talking that sci-fi shit.”

Felicity gave him a disgruntled look and it took Oliver a second to realize what he’d said wrong.  Then he winced.

Rolling her eyes, Felicity poked Oliver in the chest.  “We’re going to have a talk about _that_ later.  It’s a good thing you didn’t say it to William.” Then she grabbed her plate and coffee and started toward the corner where William was sitting and brooding.

Huh.   _Now_  Oliver saw the resemblance.

Oliver made his way to Samantha with considerably less enthusiasm.  It didn’t help that when she looked up at him there was a deep scowl on her face.  And the bags under her eyes were worse than Thea’s.  Then Samantha’s eyes flicked to Felicity and…

“ _Great_ ,” Samantha muttered, shaking her head and rolling her eyes (and, now, Oliver saw where William got  _that_ ).  “Sending your perfect girlfriend over to play the ‘ _cool’_ mom.  Because you aren’t winning  _enough_.”

Felicity must have heard her, because she stiffened.  

Then, turning slowly, Felicity fixed Samantha with the kind of look that made CEOs squirm.  Before Oliver knew what was happening, Felicity was walking back toward them, shouldering him out of the way to place her plate down next to Samantha’s.

Without looking at him, Felicity instructed, “Go spend time with your son, Oliver.  Samantha and I need to have a talk.”

Ho…ly  _Christ._

Okay.   _Um_ …this was scary as fuck, but…swallowing, Oliver did as he was told.  He, uh, trusted Felicity.  She could handle this, right?  Better than he could probably.  Sooo...he was going to…do that then.

Swallowing, Oliver joined the person he  _actually_  wanted to spend time with and placed his plate next to William’s untouched one on the coffee table.  He nodded to Slade, who Oliver now noticed was reclining on the adjacent couch, bootied feet up, reading Time Magazine.  Slade sent back a nod and a cracked smile.

William’s eyes, however, were on Felicity and Samantha.  “Are you sure Felicity will be okay with my mom?” he whispered.

“It’s not Felicity I’m worried about,” Oliver muttered as he settled on the floor next to William.  And _that_ an understatement.

William smiled as Oliver sat, his eyes bright.  Whatever was going on William, at least, he didn’t seem to be holding anything that happened last night against Oliver.  A small victory, but he’d take it.

Leaning toward him, William asked in a whisper, “What do you think Felicity will do?  Do you think she’ll chew mom out for lying to us?”  He seemed completely delighted by the idea.

But…umm, Oliver sure the  _hell_  hoped not.  “ _Well_ …Felicity will try and have a rational conversation,” ‘try’ being the operative word, “and attempt to negotiate a compromise.”

The look William sent him was skeptical to say the least and, maybe, even a little disappointed.  “And when that doesn’t work?”  

And _there_ was the snark.

“Then…” Swallowing, Oliver lowered his voice, “you’ll probably get to hear Felicity’s loud voice.” _That_  made William smile, even though it wasn’t  _at all_  funny.  He was a bloodthirsty kid, his son.  “She might even threaten your mom with lawyers and identity theft.”

Oliver probably shouldn’t have said the last part.

But his son, _of course_ , just looked impressed.  William was kinda scary.

“Felicity can do that?”

“Ohhh yeah.”  Oliver dragged his eyes away from the terrifying  _women_  on the other side of the room and picked up a piece of bacon.  Turning to his son, he attempted to take some control of this horse and pony show, “So, what are you doing on your tablet?”

 

_Revised 1/16/2018_


	12. (Worth the) Risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Thank everyone sooo much for the amazing response to the last chapter. It was literally as much as the three previous chapters combined (I swear I wasn’t just whining when I said that it seemed like people were losing interest). You definitely woke up the Muse and this chapter was edited remarkably fast (which is saying something considering it is looong). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

The last thing in the  _world_  Felicity wanted to do was have a conversation with a pissed-off, defensive, and (by the looks of it) exhausted Samantha Clayton.  Actually, she was right on the top of the list of people Felicity would rather avoid talking to for the  _rest of her life_.  

So, _of course_ , it looked like they were going to be stuck with each other for…oh,  _several decades._ At least.  Fan-fricken-tastic.

Well, Oliver was worth it.  William was worth it.  So…Felicity would just have to deal.  

Frak.

Of course, Felicity could just… _not_  deal with it.  Make Oliver handle Samantha.  It was  _his_  mess.  

But that really wasn’t the sort of partner Felicity wanted to be.  And, besides, Oliver might be good at a lot of things.  Like scarily,  _inhumanly_  good at some of them, but dealing with his Baby Mama happened to be something he was spectacularly bad at.

And the mood Samantha was obviously in…she would eat the Big Bad Green Arrow for breakfast.

Well, until Samantha managed to get Oliver good and growly and then…Felicity suppressed a shudder.  This just wasn’t a situation that could be solved by putting an arrow in it.  Unfortunately.

So, Felicity got to deal with Samantha.   _Yay_!  She was  _so_  looking forward to this conversation.  Especially, given how calm and reasonable the woman had proven to be in the past.  

Taking a long, fortifying drink of her very sweet and very creamy (but not  _nearly_  full enough) coffee, Felicity settled herself and her brunch next to the woman who had (indirectly) caused her a hell of a lot of pain.

When Felicity looked at her, Samantha was glaring at her, arms crossed, jaw hard…  

This was  _ridiculous_!  What the  _hell_  had Felicity ever done to  _her_?  

_Nothing_ , that’s what.  She hadn’t stolen Oliver.  Or her son, for that matter.  She’d never lied or cheated or… _anything_  to Samantha that would warrant  _any_  sort of anger that was being directed at her.

Vis versa on the other hand…

Fraking  _hell_.  

Felicity just wanted to turn her back on Samantha and walk away, but…that just brought her back to the beginning.  For Oliver and William’s sake, she was going to have to do her best to work with the situation.

“You know we have to deal with each other, right?   _All_ of us?” Felicity gestured to where Oliver and William were engaged in conversation (God, how she wished she was  _there,_  instead of here).  “They know each other now.  They want to be in each other’s lives.  They  _deserve_  to be in each other’s lives.   _So_ , we can figure out how to do that in a way that works for all of us  _or_  we can continue to fight each other every step of the way for the next eight years until William decides he’s had enough and kicks us  _all_  out of his life.”

Okay.

Wow.

As an opening gambit that was…strongly worded.  Maybe, Felicity should have eaten first.   Or thought a little longer before she spoke.  She couldn’t bring herself to regret a word she said, though.

She did turn her eyes away to allow Samantha to process.  Besides, Felicity was _fraking_ hungry.  She shoveled a huge mouthful of cheesy eggs into her mouth and… _God_ , that was good.  She wondered if these really were the second-best eggs she had ever eaten (Oliver and his damn slow cooker eggs were damn near impossible to beat) or if she was just  _that_  hungry.

Felicity only had a minute to get lost in the joy that was  _actual_  food before Samantha pulled her back to reality, saying (or, maybe,  _accusing_ ), “I know you judge me for lying to them for all these years.”

Well,  _crap_.  Taking a minute to swallow, Felicity tried to figure out what the hell she was supposed to say to  _that_.  

“Judge is such a… _strong_  word,” she finally settled on.  Not an  _inaccurate_  word, though it certainly didn’t make Felicity feel that great about how she was handling this.  Should she at least  _try_  to be more sympathetic?

Samantha huffed, almost chuckling, but in an extremely bitter way.  “It’s okay,  _my son_  certainly judges me.” The pain in her voice was difficult to ignore.  “And, from what I understand, the two of you have soooo much in common.”

Okay, now Felicity  _was_  feeling guilty, but…

Dammit!   _This_  was how Samantha got Oliver to do what she wanted back in Central City.  Guilt and manipulation.   Playing the Mommy Card.

Stealing her jaw, Felicity said quietly, but firmly, “You were the one who chose this path with William.  It’s not Oliver’s fault, and it isn’t certainly  _mine_ , that they thought each other was dead for his entire life.”

Was that too harsh?  Not harsh enough?  Felicity didn’t know anymore.

Samantha’s eyes darted away and Felicity thought, maybe, she saw the first hint of guilt in the other woman’s eyes.  There was definitely a glint of tears.  But, then, Samantha leveled Felicity with a hard stare.  “Do you know why I took Moira Queen’s check…or  _pretended to_ since I never actually cashed the damn thing…all those years ago?”

Um…okay.  That was interesting place for Samantha to start her argument.  Felicity really couldn’t see what she hoped to gain from it.  

Felicity shrugged.  “I always assumed that you didn’t want William to grow up to be a spoiled rich kid.  You know, the kind who dropped out of college, partied too much, and got a girl pregnant while dating someone else.”  Blunt, but why else would she keep her son from his father?  

Though, it was _not_ , in Felicity’s opinion, justification for everything Samantha had done.  The Oliver of old was a player, a douche, sure, but he wasn’t a criminal.  There was no reason to believe Oliver would have been a _danger_ to William or Samantha.

Samantha gave a bark of a laugh and, after, seemed to be shocked that she had done so.  “That was certainly part of it.  Well, a  _large_  part of it.” Samantha shook her head, but at least she seemed to have some respect in her eyes now.  “But more than that…well, frankly, Mrs. Queen  _terrified_ me.  The way she manipulated Oliver’s life… _supposedly_  out of  _love_?  The way she threw money at me like she had the right to arrange  _my_  life, my  _child’s_  life, just because she was… _who_  she was…”  Samantha shuddered, clearly disgusted.

And Felicity couldn’t say she didn’t share that emotion.  Because,  _yup_ , that was the Moira Queen.  To a T.  

“She wasn’t my favorite person either.”  Felicity kept her voice quiet so Oliver and William couldn’t overhear.  Or Thea, for that matter.  Since Moira’s death, Felicity had tried to keep her opinion of Oliver’s mother to herself.  What good would sharing it do?  Moira was gone and Oliver and Thea needed to hold on to whatever good memories they had.

Samantha sat forward, her eyes lighting up.  “So you understand—?”

“No.” Felicity wasn’t ready to give Samantha this out.  Not yet.  Even if…maybe she  _did_  understand.  A little.  But that didn’t mean she was okay with what Samantha had done.  “You didn’t lie to  _Moira_.  You lied to your  _son_  and  _his_  father.”

Samantha grunted in frustration.  “If I had ignored Moira’s ‘request,’ if I’d gone to Oliver, who as far as I knew would totally take his mother’s side, and told him the truth…” She let out a long sigh.  “Let’s say I  _hadn’t_  told Oliver I miscarried?  Who’s to say Mama!Queen wouldn’t have decided a year after William was born… _five_  years after he was born…that  _my son_  was now a ‘Queen’ and that meant she had the right to control him too.  And if I tried to stand in her way, what was to keep her from sending in an army of lawyers to take William away  _from me_?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Samantha turned her face away.  Then, angrily brushing away a tear that had dared to escape, she whispered in a choked voice, “He’s all I have.  I couldn’t let… _that woman_  have him.”

Okay.  Wow.  

Felicity let out a sharp breath.  “I understand that.  I  _do_.”  And she could.  She could  _absolutely_  empathize with Samantha’s fear, her need to protect her child.  And, maybe, she even felt a  _little bad_  for all the horrible things she had thought about the woman without knowing the full story.   _But_ …  “Oliver’s not Moira.  Moira is dead and gone and he is  _nothing_  like her.”

Actually, that was probably an oversimplification.  Moira was a complex person.  As were her children.  Felicity could think of a dozen positive traits Oliver had gotten from his mother.  But for  _this_  purpose, Oliver  _truly_  was nothing like his mother.

“And how was  _I_  to know that?” Samantha demanded in a hiss.  “I barely  _knew_  Oliver!”

What was Samantha trying to get at here?  Was she  _actually_  looking for absolution for that insane ultimatum she gave Oliver almost two years ago?  The one that sent Felicity’s world crumbling around her?  Well, if she was, Samantha certainly wasn’t going to get it.  Not from her.

Or did she want forgiveness for the choice she’d made more than  _ten_  years ago?  The one where Samantha had done as Moira Queen, the woman she claimed to hate, asked?  Well, Felicity might understand how she had  _come_  to that decision, and, maybe, that one wasn’t hers to judge, but it  _certainly_  wasn’t hers to absolve.

“We can’t change the past,” Felicity finally said, gentling her tone.  It was the best she could do.  “And you may not have known Oliver ten years ago, or even two, but you should know  _now_  that he is nothing like the boy you knew.  He doesn’t live in a mansion and throw around money.  He spends  _all_  his time, day  _and_  night, doing everything he can to help people.  At great risk to himself.  He doesn’t party.  He doesn’t sleep around.”  Hell, he barely slept.  “He doesn’t—”

“Wow.  He sounds like quite the catch.  I wonder why you broke up with him,” Samantha challenged and…

Felicity had a hard time analyzing her tone.  Was Samantha questioning her defense of Oliver?  Which, now that Felicity thought about it, did sound like a woman head over heels (and she was).  Or was she pointing out Felicity’s foolishness in not being with him?

Either way, it made Felicity bristle.  “We  _are_  together,” she told Samantha firmly.   _Not_  defensively.  Nope.  Not at all.  

Also, Samantha really didn’t need the details of her love life.  It was _none_ of her business.  All she needed to know was the breakup was most assuredly  _behind_  them.  

Samantha didn’t seem surprised.  She almost seemed pleased, actually, in a bitter, world-hardened sort of way, and Felicity realized she had probably lessened some of Samantha’s guilt for her part in the break-up.

But  _that_  was really not what Felicity was putting herself through this conversation  _to_  say.  “It doesn’t matter what  _I_  think of Oliver.  What matters is that he hasn’t given  _you_  any reason to believe he would do anything but be a good father to William.  The fact that he  _didn’t_  send an army of lawyers after you when you gave him your ridiculous ultimatum…”

Samantha flinched and it gave Felicity a little too much satisfaction.

“…should prove  _exactly_  how much respect Oliver has for you as William’s mother and for how you raised him.  It also shows  _very clearly_  what Oliver is willing to do to keep from negatively impacting his son.” Felicity didn’t agree with how Oliver originally handled the situation ( _at all_ ). but it should, at the very least, gain him points with the woman who made the stupid demands in the first place.

_And_ …Samantha was back to looking guilty.  Good.  She  _should_  feel guilty. But she also radiated tension, her arms tightly crossed and her posture stiff.  But, at least, Felicity had her full attention.

Maybe, it was time to go in for the kill.  “Oliver wants to continue to respect your wishes about William.  He’d do just about anything for his son, but if you push him too far, try to cut him out again, you will get the fight of your life.”  Felicity didn’t add that she would be the one leading the charge.  She thought that rather implicit, anyway.  

Samantha stared at Felicity for long minutes, but when Felicity didn’t back down she finally said, “I don’t know if that was an olive branch or a threat.”

It was both, really.  “I’m just stating facts.”  

And with that Felicity turned her attention back to her eggs, which were now getting cold and not nearly as good.  Sigh.

“And if I don’t want to move to Star City?   _Your_  home?  Our third city in  _three_  years?” Samantha finally asked, after Felicity had taken several bites of her lukewarm breakfast.  “Am I going to get  _the fight of my life_?”  Her voice was soft, though.  Not confrontational.  It was a challenge, but, also, an opening.

_So_ , now they moved onto where they all went next and…it felt weird to be negotiating this without Oliver.  Felicity was  _just_  the girlfriend, not a parent.  But…she really couldn’t see Oliver  _forcing_  Samantha to move.  Actually, she had a feeling Oliver would fold like a deck of cards for a handful of crumbs and Felicity really couldn’t let that happen.

“I think that depends on what Oliver feels is best for William,” Felicity said, praying it was the right thing.  “If Oliver thought his life… _wherever_  you are living now was what was best for him—”

“New Hampshire.” Samantha finished, in a disgusted tone, scoffing.  “And Oliver certainly isn’t going to think  _that_.  It’s...did you know disappearing without a trace, with a  _child_ , isn’t as easy or as glamorous as it sounds?”

It probably would have gone a lot better if Felicity had helped.  But no one  _asked_  her.  

Swallowing her bitterness, Felicity simply stated, “I can’t imagine it is.”

“You leave with the clothes on your back and the cash in your pocket and… _that’s it_.  Your degree, your references, your  _credit report_ …you have  _nothing_.” Samantha closed her eyes, her face a mask of pain and…Felicity hadn’t really thought about what it would be like for them.  How hard disappearing would be.  “We found this tiny town, where they still use paper records so they believed us when said we’d lost all of ours in a fire.  Or… maybe they didn’t, maybe they thought I was running from an abusive husband or… _something._ Point was, at least, I was able to enroll William in school.”

Samantha wasn’t meeting Felicity’s eyes and Felicity was glad for it, because even though the decision to run wasn’t what she would have chosen, or even something she endorsed, the story was still difficult to hear.

“I couldn’t get a job in accounting without my resume, so I worked the registers at Walmart during the day and waited tables at night just to make ends meet.  William hated it.  Hell,  _I_  hated it.  It’s really hard to be positive for your son when you’re miserable and exhausted and  _completely_ alone.” Samantha sucked in a breath and Felicity could feel her hopelessness.  “So, yeah…” Samantha seemed to shake herself, turning to look at Felicity again.  “When William says there’s  _nothing_  for us in New Hampshire, he’s right.”

Felicity was speechless.  If Oliver had known…he would have been horrified.   _Felicity_  was horrified.  And for the first time, she felt a genuine respect for Samantha and how she had managed to support her and her son under these circumstances.  It reminded her a lot of her own mother.  “So why fight moving to Star City?” Felicity asked, much more gently this time.

“Honestly?” Samantha shook her head.  “If it were entirely up to me, I would move back to Central City.  I still own the house there outright.  It was my grandmothers.  I have friends.  A support system.  I  _know_  the city.” She sighed.  “But…”

“But?” Felicity wasn’t expecting a ‘but’.  Samantha was presenting a very good case for Central City.

Samantha sighed.  “But is it  _safe_  there?  Is it safe  _anywhere_?  It certainly wasn’t safe in New Hampshire.  Would it be any safer in Star City?  Or would it be  _worse,_  because everyone there knows Oliver Queen and would know that William was his son and he’s got a ton of enemies and—”

“ _Samantha_.” Felicity reached out and touched her hand before giving herself time to think better of the idea.  “I won’t lie.  William is always going to be in danger because of who his father is.  It won’t matter where he is.  Chase just proved that.  But in Star City, Oliver and I can fortify where ever you decided to live with the latest security system and you would have your own Superhero Team watching over you.  We could even get you a bodyguard.”

Wrinkling her nose, Samantha looked appalled at the idea and Felicity could certainly empathize with  _that_.

“I know.  But it might be necessary where ever you are.   _But_ , since I’m being honest…” Forgive her, Oliver.  “You  _could_  have the same thing in Central City.”  As Felicity said it, it felt like she was betraying Oliver and William, but it  _was_  the truth.  And someone had to be faithful to that. 

Hope flashed in Samantha’s eyes, even as she said doubtfully, “Have a Superhero Team watching over us?  What are you going to do, put us on the Flash’s routine patrol?”

“Well…yeah.”  That was  _exactly_  what they would do.

“Seriously?” Samantha’s eyes widened and she looked as if she couldn’t believe she was having this conversation.

Felicity was sure this was pretty surreal experience for her.

She shrugged.  Felicity didn’t want to brag,  _but_ … “We kind of know him…the Flash…all of Team Flash.   _Well_ , actually.  We’re friends.  Good friends.”  Yeah, sounded like bragging, but, again, it was the truth.  In fact, Felicity thought she was rather understating it.  “I even dated the Flash, briefly, before Oliver—”

“How many Superheroes  _have_  you dated?”  From the shock in Samantha’s voice it was clear she couldn’t wrap her head around any of this.

Eek.  Samantha just  _had_  to ask  _that_  question.  Felicity wrinkled up her nose and confessed, “Three.”  It hadn’t escaped her notice that she might have a type. And, what was worse, that  _definitely_  sounded like she was bragging.

“ _Three_!” Samantha gasped and Felicity couldn’t do anything but give another shrug.  Because…it was what it was.  Falling back in her chair, Samantha stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and unblinking.  “You  _know_  you don’t live a normal life, right?”

Understatement of the century.  “I’m aware.”

Then Samantha let out another long breath, closing her eyes briefly.  “Our lives aren’t normal anymore either, are they?”

“I’m sorry.”  And Felicity was.  She had chosen this life, but Samantha and William hadn’t.  They were thrust into it.  Felicity had a strong feeling that William would  _still_  choose it, if given a chance, but Samantha…

Well, Samantha had no choice.  It was just a fact of her life now.  There was no place to hide.

Samantha considered Felicity for long moments, but she no longer looked like she wanted Felicity to spontaneously combust, so that was something.  Finally, Samantha shook her head, muttering, “ _Three_  Superheroes, no wonder my son adores you.”

Well,  _that_  shocked the hell out of her.  Though, it gave Felicity a warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach too.  “I barely had the chance to  _speak_  to William,” Felicity protested.

Samantha rolled her eyes.  “It was enough.  If I could count the number of times I’ve heard yours and Oliver’s names since we were rescued…actually….” She let out a choked sound.  “William calls him ‘ _dad’_.  I can’t  _believe_  he calls him ‘dad’.”

Felicity knew smiling wasn’t the appropriate response, but it was hard to contain.  Samantha’s words gave her  _such_  a wave of affection for that sweet boy.  

But even so, Felicity could imagine how this was hurting Samantha.  

Leaning forward again, Felicity told her with complete and genuine honesty, “Samantha, I don’t want to take your place.  You’re William’s  _mother_.  I couldn’t take your place if I wanted to.  And I _don’t_ want to.  I was raised by a single mother.” Samantha’s eyes flicked to hers.  If she only knew the whole story, how similar they were.  Someday, maybe.  “I  _know_  what the bond is like between a single parent and their child…”

Guilt washed over her and Felicity fought the burn in the back of her throat, vowing to call her mother the  _first_  chance she got.  She had taken her for granted for far too long.

Taking a shaky breath, Felicity pushed forward, “I do want a relationship with your son.  A good one, I hope.  But I  _don’t_  want to be his mother.   _You’re_ his mother.”

Samantha nodded, discreetly wiping her face, and Felicity knew that she had finally gotten through to her.

She pretended not to notice Samantha’s tears as she debated her next words.  Did Felicity let this go?  Maybe, even advocate to Oliver and William for Samantha’s desire to move back to Central City.

In some ways, it would be so much easier.  Cisco could trick out their house.  Barry or Wally could run William back to Star City two weekends a month (which Felicity was certain William would _love_ ).  She could get William the best very cell-phone on the market and tablet to skype or text his dad daily.  

And Oliver and Felicity’s lives wouldn’t have to change that much.  They could stay nice and  _separate_  from Samantha’s.

It was tempting.  It really was.  But it wasn’t what Oliver and William wanted.

“But if you  _do_  decide to move to Star City,” Felicity began, carefully.  “To start over.  You could probably have your pick of accounting jobs.  We’re always looking for young professionals there.”  What with the mass exodus over the last few years.  Not that Felicity was mentioning  _that_.  “Between Oliver and I, we could get you…”

Samantha eyes flashed, opening her mouth to protest.   _Damn,_  this woman was prideful.  

Felicity could respect that.  “We could get you  _interviews_.  Getting the job would be up to you.”

Samantha relaxed and when she said her next words, they were calm and measured, “My savings are drained.  The moving costs—”

“How much do you think Oliver owes you in back child support?” Felicity couldn’t believe how quickly those words left her mouth.  It was amazing how, over the last few years, she’d taken on some of the Queen’s attitude about money.

Eyebrows up, Samantha questioned, “I thought Oliver wasn’t a billionaire anymore.”

“He’s not.”  Poor, though, he wasn’t either.  Even if he could live more spartan than, well, Spartan. “But he  _is_  paranoid.  And he set up several offshore emergency accounts while he still  _was_  a billionaire.  He refuses to touch them unless it’s to shore up the Bunker, but…I’m certain he would make an exception for his son.  Plus, he makes a good salary now.”

“I won’t be bought—”

As if  _that_  wasn’t obvious.  “Back child support,” Felicity repeated.

“If I agree to this.   _If_ …” Samantha said fiercely and Felicity was very aware of how much it took for her to give even this much.  “I still want primary physical custody.  William lives with  _me_.  I won’t have this 50/50 stuff with him going back and forth in the middle of the school week.”  

Oh, God, the  _school week_.  They would have to find a safe  _school_  for William.   _Wherever_  he lived.  Schools were so big.  And accessible.  The idea was overwhelming.

“Oliver can have one night a week and every other weekend,” Samantha was saying, while Felicity was panicking.  “And I want yours… _and_  Oliver’s promise that there will be no running to your place whenever he’s mad at me.”

_Okay_ , Felicity’s brain was on overload now, spinning out of control as she tried to imagine how all of this would fit into hers and Oliver’s life.  City Hall, Team Arrow…and Felicity really did want to start that business her and Curtis had been low-key planning all year.   The non-compete clause in her severance package would be up soon.

“Look, the last part, I _completely_ agree with,” Felicity managed to say.  “We need to figure out a way so that William doesn’t play us off one another.”  Wow, another overwhelming thought.  She took a deep breath.  “Samantha, I…okay, you are suggesting a very traditional arrangement and…our lives are  _anything_  but traditional…”

Samantha stiffened immediately.  “I won’t—”

“I’m not asking for  _more_  than that, I’m asking for  _flexibility_.”  And Felicity really hoped Oliver would be okay with all of this.  “Do you have any idea how crazy our lives are?  How  _busy_  Oliver is with being the mayor  _and_  the Green Arrow.”

Sitting up straight, Samantha blinked at her.  “Are you saying Oliver doesn’t have  _time_  to be a father?”

Actually…  

“He doesn’t.  But he’ll  _make_  time.  But it would really help… _all of this,”_ Felicity gestured with her hand, “work if you let us fit in Oliver’s time with his son when we can.  If he is supposed to have dinner with William on Wednesday and there’s a crisis—”

Samantha lifted her eyebrows.  “You don’t want me to be a rigid bitch and not let Oliver see his son for a week?”

Felicity’s lip quirked.  It would really help if Samantha had a sense of humor too.  “That would be nice, yes.  Look, we don’t need to be friends.” Felicity couldn’t even imagine.  “But  _this_  will work so much better if we have each other’s backs and not only with discipline and whatever.  But…with working our schedules and lack thereof.  It would go both ways.  If you have to travel for work or stay late or have a last-minute date, I’d like you to be able to call us for back-up.  We’re really good with last minute.  We kind of live our lives on the fly.”

Samantha actually smiled, a small but  _real_  smile.  “I want to say kids need structure and they shouldn’t live ‘on the fly’, but…the older William gets the more that goes out the window and I…”  She sucked in a breath, sitting back in her chair.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had any kind of back-up with William.  Since my parents died when he was three, actually.  And now that he’s approaching…God, help me… _puberty_ , sometimes, we just need a break from each other.”

Smiling back, tears came to Felicity’s eyes.  She was just so damn relieved.  And, seriously, she couldn’t  _believe_  how much she empathized with Samantha.  “We could help with that.”

“And,  _God_ …” Samantha almost sounded wistful.  “I can’t even  _remember_  the last time I went on a  _date_.  There was a man once...years ago, but I…”

As weird as it was that Samantha was talking about her (apparently nonexistent) love life with Felicity…there was a regret in Samantha’s voice, a grief over opportunities missed that she related with.  

It brought Felicity back to months ago, when Oliver was dating the dragon lady (Thea’s word) and Felicity was still upset with him for not trusting her, yet she’d…still missed him so  _so_  much.

And now Felicity knew… _knew_  that Oliver had always trusted her, just he hadn’t trusted himself.  He…he had made mistakes, yes.   _Absolutely_ , yes…but everything that felt so  _un_ fixable  _had_  been fixable and…

What if…what if Felicity and Oliver  _hadn’t_  been locked in the Bunker together and forced to deal with their issues?  Would they still have found their way back?  Would Felicity have been talking about him wistfully a decade from now the way Samantha was talking about… _whoever_  it was she was talking about.

Samantha’s eyes were far away as she said, “I was worried about getting hurt.” And that resonated…Felicity had to close her eyes it resonated _that_ much.  “I was worried about  _William_  getting hurt, so I…I told myself it was smart to go slow.  That was the way you built a good foundation, made absolutely  _certain_  that it was right.  I was just taking it one step at a time.”

Felicity just barely kept herself from flinching at Samantha’s choice of words.  God, she was starting to hate  _one step at a fraking time_.  

“Then he was offered a job at Monument Point.  It was an amazing opportunity.  He wasn’t going to turn it down for…” Blowing out a breath, Samantha swallowed.  “We’d only been on a few dates.  I’d wanted to spread them out, make  _sure_  it would work.  But now…I’ve always wondered, what if I hadn’t?  What if I’d taken the risk…?” Samantha shook her head, turning her head to meet Felicity’s eyes and whisper, “Life is  _short_.”

“Yes, it is,” Felicity whispered back.  

Over and over Felicity was reminded of that fact and…yet, she allowed herself to get stuck in her own fears and insecurities.  Time and time again.   To forget.  To go on as if time was infinite.  

With her mother.  With starting her business.  With Oliver….

Felicity’s heart had started to accelerate and now she could feel it beating in her throat, because…because…life was  _short_.  There was no time to waste.

“It feels like I’ve been living my life on the defensive,” Samantha confessed and Felicity didn’t know what to do with the fact that she was now becoming her confidant.  

Or that she could relate to this on a visceral level.  

“Always running.  Trying to protect myself and William.  First from Momma Queen, then a broken heart, then…a million unknown dangers.  I’m so  _tired_  of running.”

“So stop,” Felicity said it softly.  

Not sure if she was telling Samantha or…herself.  Because  _Felicity_  had been living on the defensive too.  For so long after her father died, after Cooper, and then, last year, she’d fallen into the same old pattern.  It had taken a… _Supervillain_  locking them in an underground death trap to shake her out of it.

But…maybe, Felicity hadn’t come out of it.  Not fully.

“I have to do something different,” Samantha said and…

Oh yeah, they were talking about  _her_  life.  Not Felicity’s.  Though, she certainly agreed.  Different was good.  Necessary even.  For both of them, maybe.  

“It’s not like living like this has gotten me anywhere.”

It had never gotten Felicity anywhere either.  The best things in her life happened when she had held her breath and jumped in feet first, going with her gut.  Not thinking too hard.

“Does that mean you’re moving to Star City?” Felicity asked quietly, because, thankfully, some part of her brain was still on the problem in front of her.

Samantha gave Felicity a weak smile.  “It means I’ll consider it.  I need to carefully weigh the pros and cons of Central City versus Star City.  Sleep on it, I think.  I haven’t had  _nearly_  enough sleep to make this kind of decision.”  Her smile turned wry, tipping up more on one end.

Felicity found herself returning it.  “That sounds wise.”  Because,  _objectively_ , it did.  From Samantha’s perspective both cities were good options and needed to be considered carefully.  She had a child to consider.

“But I won’t fight the two of them.” Samantha gestured to where Oliver and William sat.  “I won’t try to keep them apart.  William…” she took in a deep breath, seeming to steel herself, “he’s of an age now that he  _really_  needs his father.  I just hope Oliver can be the father he deserves.”

“He will be.”  If there was one thing Felicity was sure of, it was  _that_.  Plus, she planned on making certain of it.

Samantha smiled and it wasn’t ironic or skeptical, not this time.  “Maybe, I need to talk to him now.  Oliver, I mean.  Without the screaming or threats.”

Oh.  Samantha meant  _now_.

Oh, thank  _God_.  

This conversation may have gone a whole  _hell_  of lot better than Felicity anticipated, but it had…it had brought up a lot more emotions than she had been prepared for and… _wow_ , she was glad it was over.  

“I’ll get him for you.” Felicity tried not to appear too eager to escape as she stood and went (slowly as she could make herself) to Oliver, dropping onto the couch behind him.  

Placing her hands on Oliver’s shoulders, Felicity resisted the urge to lay her head there and just be.  Instead, she leaned down and whispered into his ear, “You’re up.”

Oliver smiled (a nervous smile, but excited, Felicity thought).  He stood, dropping a kiss on her lips and whispering, “Thank you.”

She almost whispered back, ‘don’t thank me, yet,’ but thought better of it.  Oliver was anxious enough.  Felicity watched him go, trying to push back the intrusive thoughts about how close she had come to not being here, to not having Oliver back and…

Nothing in the world felt so right as being with Oliver.  Even now, working separately, but as a team.  It felt effortless.  Right.

But for the grace of God.

Swallowing, Felicity forced herself to turn to William, to see he was watching  _her_  rather than his parents.  Rather intently, too.

Okay, then.  Round two.

God, this was hard.

Felicity scooted down to sit next to her boyfriend’s (Oliver was right.  That word was woefully inadequate) son, in the place that Oliver had just vacated.

“So, what are you playing?” Felicity asked, pointing to the tablet William was holding.  That seemed a safe enough question.

But William frowned and shrugged.  So…maybe not?  

“Nothing good,” William grunted.  “ _Everything_  is restricted on this thing.  It says it has wifi, but it won’t let me get anywhere I want to go or download any  _good_  apps.”

Well,  _that_  was something Felicity could do something about. Tech.  A problem she could solve.  Thank  _God_.  

Felicity gestured for William to hand her the tablet.  “What do you want to play?”

William shrugged again, but he handed over the tablet and this shrug seemed more interested than despondent, at least.  “I dunno.  Roblox, maybe?”

He was watching her closely, eyes alternating between Felicity’s face and her fingers as they flew over the screen.  She flicked a look at William as she systematically began dismantling the tablet’s straight jacket.  It hurt her to see it.  The poor baby.

“What’s Roblox?” Felicity asked, absently, wondering if it was something she should know.

But it only earned Felicity her  _third_  shrug.  “It’s like Minecraft…only nothing like Minecraft.”

O… _kay_ … Felicity quirked an eyebrow at William.

Luckily that was enough to prompt William to explain, “I mean, it  _looks_  like Minecraft, kinda, but instead of just building stuff, you can make games and other people can play them on-line.”

“ _That’s_  cool.”  They hadn’t had anything that cool when Felicity was William’s age.  Which might have been a good thing.  She’d barely got off the computer as it was.  “So you need to download the app?”

William nodded.  “And access the internet to get to my account.”

“The shouldn’t be hard.”  Felicity’s fingers worked their magic.  It was relaxing, actually.  And it seemed to impress William, so that was a bonus.  “How do you spell it?”

“R-O-B-L-O-X.  Are you going to marry my dad?”

R-O-B…what the…?

_What?_

Felicity’s head snapped over, her wide eyes settling on William’s frighteningly intense, and alarmingly intelligent, stare.  “Excuse me?” and it might have come out in an embarrassing squeak.  

“Are you and my dad going to get married?” William repeated, pronouncing it more carefully…as if that would keep the question from making Felicity’s brain  _explode_.  

Because it wasn’t like they hadn’t…set a date and had a venue and a rabbi and…

Dear God, they would have already had their one-year anniversary by now.  If things had things been different.

And the boy sitting in front of her was indirectly the reason they hadn’t.

Now, William wanted to know if they were getting married and Felicity had no idea if it was something the boy wanted or not.  She had no idea if it was something  _she_  wanted…

No, it _was_ something she wanted.  Definitely… _eventually_.  In future.  

How near a future wasn’t something that Felicity had really let herself contemplate again.  Forever, sure, but engagement?  Marriage?  That was a no-fly zone for her brain for the last, oh…year or so.

But, now, here Felicity was, sitting with Oliver’s  _son_ , who she had met less than 24 hours ago and…

And,  _apparently_ , Felicity was taking too long to answer because William frowned and followed up with, “Are you going to be my step-mom?”

Lovely.  This kid and his one-two punches.  “Um…it’s com—”

William groaned.  Loudly.  “ _Please,_  don’t say it’s complicated.

And, that, incredibly, made Felicity laugh.  Okay, then.  

“Oliver and I haven’t talked about it.  This time,” Felicity told him as honestly as she could. Because what else could she say?  That their last engagement had ended so traumatically that she hadn’t let herself think about it?  And was she  _really_  supposed to discuss this with William  _before_ she discussed it with Oliver?

Apparently, William thought so.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he gave Felicity a look that was both skeptical and confrontational.  Wow, William was quite the little interrogator.  That look  _alone_.  

Fine.  Felicity blew out a breath.  “Your father and I  _were_  engaged, but we…we broke up and are just recently back in a relationship.  We haven’t discussed marriage since getting back together.”  Being together forever, yes.  Marriage, no.  Which, now that she thought about it, seemed like a very weird distinction, but William didn’t know that and didn’t need to, so she met his  _frightening_  serious gaze and said plainly, “That’s the whole truth.”

Just…please, don’t ask why they broke up.   _Please,_  don’t ask why they broke up….

“Why’d you break up?”

_Frak_.

Felicity wasn’t going to catch a break, was she?  

Okay.  Felicity was gonna try brief, but honest.  “He lied to me.”

And, amazingly, William just nodded, accepting the answer.  Thank  _God_.  “Why did you get back together, then?”

“He stopped lying.”  Which was also accurate, if the over simplification of the century.  But it did seem to satisfy William and he nodded sagely.  This kid was an old soul.

William even gave Felicity two whole minutes to relax and work on finding his app.  

Then, “So, you’re probably going to get married soon, then?”

Felicity couldn’t help but laugh.  God, this kid was tenacious.  Wonder where he got that from?  

Lowering her voice, she confessed, “I would like to marry your father.  One day.”  Felicity tried to keep her voice soft enough to not be overheard (again, really would prefer to discuss this with Oliver first).  Unfortunately, _Slade_ just happened to be five feet away…

_Crap_.  Slade’s face turned and he fixed her with a  _look_ , half-smile and, one eyebrow up, (which did looked extra roguish with the eye patch).

Scrunching up her face, Felicity sent Slade a ‘don’t give me that look’ look, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue at him (she  _was_  the adult here).  Because, seriously, this was hard  _enough_ , she didn’t need this from  _Slade_  of all people.  

Chuckling to himself, Slade just shook his head _,_ turning back to his magazine (thankfully).  Though, if he thought Felicity didn’t notice his eye (singular,  _one_  eye, which was a little weird) dancing with amusement…yeah, she  _did_.

“One day?  What does  _that_  mean?” William demanded, pulling Felicity’s attention back to him.  Lovely, an amused ex-villain  _and_  an irate ten year-old.

Seriously, Felicity wasn’t sure how she was going to handle this.  Like  _emotionally_.  She wanted to go back to bed.  Preferably, with Oliver.  And lock the rest of the world away.

Because right now, Felicity’s brain was tripping over the fact that she had just had a conversation with William’s mother about how short life was and now all Felicity could think about was how sick she was of wasting it.  

Yeah, what  _did_  ‘one day’ mean?  What the hell were they… _she_  waiting for?

And what was Felicity supposed to tell William?  ‘Look, kid, I’m as confused and frustrated by this as you are.  I wish it were less complicated.  I wish the answers were clearer.  But I’m fraking clueless.’

_That_  would go over well.

Maybe, telling the truth was harder than it looked.

But she needed to say  _something_.  William’s annoyance at her delay was palpable.  And growing.  “It means that…” Felicity had no fricken clue.

So, William finished for her, “That you don’t want to tell me.”

Felicity was the one grunting in frustration now.  “ _No_.  It means,  _I don’t know_.  Sometimes, when adults don’t give you the answer you want, it doesn’t mean they’re holding back, it just means they  _don’t know_.”

William frowned.  Maybe, he even pouted a little.  He pulled his leg to his chest and rested his chin on it, grunting, “Sometimes, I think adults make things complicated on purpose.  Things that  _could_  be really simple.”

Out of the mouth of babes.

Having no idea what to say to  _that_ , Felicity focused on the tablet.  It was so much less stressful than this conversation…which was starting the rival the one with Samantha.  

And, of  _course_ , now all Felicity could think about was marriage.  And the life her and Oliver had planned, _before_ it all went to crap.  Everything they had dreamed of.  And now…

Marriage was a huge step.  Wasn’t it?  Was it strange that it really didn’t feel huge at all?

“What are you waiting for?” William asked in a whisper and Felicity had to do a double-take.  For a moment, she thought it came from her own mouth, not his.

This kid was insightful and straightforward.  A dangerous combination.  But, still, Felicity didn’t have answer for William, especially since it was becoming clear that platitudes would not only be dismissed, but treated with the utmost disdain.

At least, William seemed to  _want_  them to get married.  That was something.  God, how awful would it be if he was against it?  Or if he held some sort of fantasy that Oliver would get together with his mother?   _That_ kind of made Felicity shudder just thinking about it.

Before Felicity could come up with an answer…an answer  _other than_  ‘I don’t know,’ William blurted out, “My dad said you were the love of his life.”

Felicity’s eyes flew to William, warmth flooding her.  It was really hard not to grin like a loon.  “He did?”

“Yes.  Is he yours?”

Wow.  Wow and wow,  _this kid_ …

“Yes.”  At least  _that_  was a question Felicity knew the answer to.  She glanced up and saw Slade’s lip quirking again and had the urge to chuck a cold piece of toast at him.

William seemed to relax.  It was clear that this, at least, was the answer he wanted.  Thank _goodness_.  “ _So,_  what are you waiting for?”

Fine.  Felicity gave up.  “You know what, William, that is an  _excellent_  question and I promise that I will give it some serious thought, even talk to your dad about it, but right now…I need your Roblox username.”

Williams’ face shuttered up so fast that it made Felicity dizzy.  Was he really  _that_  upset that she had put off the question…?

Biting his lip, William asked, “You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Blowing out a relieved breath, Felicity gave her first truly  _easy_  answer of the conversation, “Of course not.”  It was funny what things kids found important.

“Even to my dad?”

“Cross my heart.”  Felicity demonstrated, smiling at him.  “We don’t keep secrets from each other, but I’m sure he’ll understand under the circumstances.”  It was a kid’s username, why would Oliver care?

Swallowing, William glanced the screen, then at Slade, before coming up onto his knees to whispering in Felicity’s ear, “CaptainGreenArrow06.”

And…Felicity swore to _God,_ it brought tears to her eyes.  It was the sweetest thing she had ever heard… _ever_ and,  _wow_ , it was going to be a lot harder to keep that a secret than she thought.

But she would.  Because it was important to William.  And it was his secret to tell.

Nodding, because she didn’t trust her voice, Felicity typed the name into the tablet.  The screen changed as it loaded and she handed the tablet back to William.

As soon as his game came up, William’s hands flew over the screen and a square looking character dressed in green, with a bow in one hand and a Captain America type shield (but with green circles and an arrow head in the center), appeared.  In small print, above the character, was ‘CaptainGreenArrow06.’

“Is that you?” Felicity asked in a whisper.

Blushing and gnawing on his lip, William nodded.

“He is  _sooo_  cool.”

Because, OMG, it was  _so_  fraking cool.

William shot Felicity a wide grin.  “I modified him myself.”

Her eyebrows flew up.  “Like…in the code?” William nodded and before Felicity could even think about it she held out her fist and William bumped it.  “ _That_  is impressive.”  He was her kinda kid.

William blushed again and did that shrug thing he seemed to like to do.  Felicity realized she was going to have to learn the different William shrugs.  It was like a secret William language.

“I just combined a Green Arrow mod with a Captain America mod, so it wasn’t really that big a deal.”

Humble too.  Felicity really liked this kid.  “Well, if you like coding Curtis and I could show you some things.”

“Cool!” William beamed at her.

Felicity watched William play for a few minutes and reached for her coffee.  She realized that she had left it behind at the table with Samantha.  Was it worth going back for?  Ugh.

Then Felicity noticed Williams full plate.  How long had it been since he had a meal?  “Did you  _eat_?”

William shrugged.  That  _damn_  shrug.

Rolling her eyes, Felicity pushed the plate toward him.  “ _Eat_  something.”  Did she sound parental?  She  _should_  sound parental, right?  Just not too parental.  Step-parental…but in a good way.

Without looking up, William reached out and touched his bacon.  “It’s cold,” he announced with disgust, shoving it away.  I complete and absolute dismissal.

Okay, then.  

Maybe, Felicity needed to give Samantha more slack.  This parenting thing…especially, the little things like answering questions and getting a kid to eat… _so_ much harder than it looked.

Felicity pushed the coffee table away and William looked up as it caused his tablet to fall to his knees. “Hey.”

“Come on,” Felicity climbed to her feet.  “You need to get something warm to eat and  _I_  need more coffee.”

William frowned, but he got to his feet and followed Felicity back to the buffet.  Win for her?

At the buffet, Felicity’s focus was on preparing her coffee (and her obsessive thoughts of marriage, ugh) when William asked, “Hey, can I have a chocolate muffin?”

“Sure,” Felicity answered without thinking, because why couldn’t he have a chocolate muffin?  It was breakfast.   But, then…

William looked positively gleeful at Felicity’s answer.  Oh  _frak_.  Something wasn’t right here, but the oversized muffin was already in his hand.  

“Did your mom say you c _ouldn’t_ have a chocolate muffin?” Felicity asked, narrowing her eyes.

William shot her such an innocent look.  A full-on Queen-style puppy-dog face and damn if it wasn’t even  _more_  powerful on his young face.   _Dammit_!

Felicity rolled her eyes (that was the only defense she had against the puppy-dog eyes, weak though it was) and, sighing, she muttered, “Just…have some fruit with it or something.”

“Okay,” William agreed.  A little too quickly and a little too cheerfully.  It made Felicity certain she had done something wrong.

What did she miss?   _Protein_!  William needed protein.  “And…drink some milk.”  That had protein, right?

“Can it be chocolate?” asked the master negotiator.

Why not?  “Sure.” It still had protein in it, didn’t it?  The chocolate didn’t deplete the protein content or anything?  Plus, chocolate has antioxidants.  Besides, the kid had just survived his second kidnapping by a psychopath in just over a year, his life had been turned upside down, let him have some chocolate in his damn milk.

Felicity practiced saying that in her head, just in case Samantha called her out on it.  Without the ‘damn’ part.

William didn’t even wait to get the massive muffin on his plate before shoving half of it in his mouth, which really seemed improbable given its size.  Yet, somehow, he managed it.   

“ _Mmm_.  Thank you, Felicity.”  At least, that’s what she  _thought_  William said.  It was hard to tell with his mouth full of muffin.

It just intensified the feeling that she had done something wrong.  But luckily for Felicity, the door opened, drawing both of their attentions as Digg walked in, JJ sitting high on his arm, Lyla and a man Felicity didn’t recognize, behind them.

So,  _that’s_  where Digg’s been.  Felicity hadn’t know that JJ was on the ship, but it made sense that the boy and his mother were John’s focus.

“JJ here,” the toddler announced, waving enthusiastically.

And, now,  _everyone_  was aware that he was on board.  Smiling, Felicity leaned toward William and whispered, “That’s Lyla and John’s son, JJ.”

“Let me guess, John jr?” William drawled dryly.  He was a sarcastic one.  Felicity liked it.

She shook her head.  “Jacob Jamison.”  William’s eyes flew to Felicity and she just smiled.  “Naw, you were right.  It’s John Jr.”

William rolled his eyes, giving her an all-adults-are-so-lame look, but he smiled as he polished off his muffin.  Felicity shoved a banana at him out of pure guilt.

“Unca Owie!”

JJ’s loud declaration, again, pulled Felicity’s eyes across the room and she met Lyla’s eyes.  “He’s still in his loud phase, huh?”

Lyla grimaced.  “Yup.  Hoping for an end to that one  _anytime_  now.”

JJ paid zero attention to his mom.  Instead, he lunged for Oliver, who appeared out of nowhere to catch him.  Felicity watched like the besotted, love-sick fool she was as Oliver greeted his godson…

Until her eye caught William, who was also giving Oliver and JJ his full attention, but with a thoughtful, sad, look on his face.  Felicity moved closer and placed her hand gently on his back.

William glanced up at Felicity for a moment but his eyes were immediately drawn back to Oliver and JJ.  As if he couldn’t stop watching if he wanted to.  “He would have been a great dad, wouldn’t he have?” he whispered.

It was a bit of a gut punch and it was on the tip of Felicity’s tongue to say Oliver was and still  _will_  be a good dad to him, but…but that wasn’t what William meant.   _Crap_.  “You mean when you were little?”  

William nodded, the look in his eyes heartbreaking and, maybe, even a little lost.

Felicity took a deep breath and…and  _really_  thought about it.  This might be the hardest question she’d been asked yet.  Right now,  _this_  Oliver, her Oliver, the one she was in love with…she had no doubt that he would be an amazing father, baby on up, but ten years ago…

“Maybe.  I didn’t know your dad back then, but…” William turned to give Felicity his full attention, head tilted as he considered her words.  Frak, guess she would have to choose them carefully.  “By all accounts, that Oliver was a big jerk back then,” she told him softly.

“Maybe having me would have helped him grow up,” William argued in a whisper.

He really was a smart kid and Felicity couldn’t say she hadn’t thought of that herself.  “Maybe, but…William, Oliver isn’t the same man that your mom met.  The island he was stranded on changed him.  He would say for the worse, but, I…I would  _very much_  disagree.”

William turned his eyes back to Oliver who was now holding JJ right side up, saying something in his ear that made JJ laugh loudly.  “It made him a hero,” William murmured.

“Yes, it did.”  Felicity followed William’s eyes as they moved from Oliver to Samantha, who was, herself, looking at Oliver with an almost wistful look.  “And,  _honestly_ , William, if Oliver was the man he is today, ten years ago I’m sure your mom wouldn’t have kept you two separated.”  

At least, Felicity hoped not.  She was trying to give Samantha more credit, give her the benefit of the doubt.  But, of course, the Oliver he was today wouldn’t have gotten some girl he barely knew pregnant…

William sagged a bit, worrying his lip.  “But that doesn’t mean my mom—”

Again, Felicity was saved by JJ as he screamed out, “An Wicity!”

Oliver placed the boy on his feet and, instantly, JJ barreled toward her.  Felicity was grateful for the reprieve, but…she leaned down to catch and scoop JJ up before he tackled her knees, very possibly knocking her to the floor.  JJ might only be two and half, but this kid was a mini-linebacker.

“Hey there, Little John,” Felicity said, kissing his cheek and trying to get the very solid little boy settled in her arms.  “Wow, you’re getting  _big_.” And heavy.

JJ threw his arms out in a muscle-man pose, lowering his voice and announcing, “ _Big_  John!”

“Whoa!” Felicity threw a hand out to try and steady the toddler before he flipped backward on her much-smaller-than-daddy’s arm and William stepped forward to do the same.  Felicity smiled at him gratefully as she told JJ. “Careful, I’m not as strong and dexterous as daddy and Uncle Oliver.”

JJ frowned at her.  “Dex…?”

William laughed.  “She sure likes fancy words, doesn’t she?”

At that point, JJ turned bright eyes to the older boy, seeming to notice him for the first time and looking him over with considerable interest.  “Who you?”

The manners on this kid.  Chuckling, Felicity hushed him, “Give me a chance, Little John.  This is William.”

A wide smile spread over JJ’s face and he waved.  “Hi, Willm.”

William grinned back, “Hey, little dude.”

Well, this was going quite nicely.  It made Felicity feel rather warm and mushy inside.  “JJ, William is Uncle Oliver’s son,” she told him, imagining that would endear him to toddler even more.

But for some reason JJ frowned, a tiny V forming between his eyes.  “No.”

No?  Felicity laughed, though a tiny niggle of anxiety started up in her belly.  “ _Yes_. William is Oliver’s son, like you are John’s son.”

JJ looked at William suspiciously now.  Then he turned skeptical eyes to Felicity.  “Unca Owie no son.”

Oh crap.  This has a potential to go really  _really_  badly.

Thankfully, William just smiled at JJ and said, “It’s confusing, isn’t it, little dude?” JJ nodded, his eyes wide.  “My mom and dad aren’t married and my mom and I live in a different city.”

Tipping his head to the side, JJ seemed to be considering this, but he still had a this-doesn’t-compute look on his face.  

Why were kids so  _hard_?  Why couldn’t they just accept what they were told?  Felicity really needed to find a direction manual somewhere, because she was feeling  _way_  over her head.

Then William sent Felicity an anxious look, like he was completely out of ideas as how to explain this to JJ and Felicity…zero clue how to handle this.  She was actually considering sending the toddler back to his parents, because she was so out of her depth, when William grabbed a second chocolate mega-muffin.

“Hey, JJ, you want a chocolate muffin?”

Apparently, chocolate muffins were the answer to all of life’s dilemmas because JJ yelled, “Yeah!” and lunged toward William and the muffin.  This kid was  _way_  too used to being around strong, coordinated people.

Luckily, William was very much Oliver’s son and caught the (not so small) toddler just as JJ’s small hands closed around the huge muffin.

Uh oh.  Not again.  “JJ are you allowed…?”

And…too late.  JJ shoved as much of the muffin as could physically fit into his small mouth.  And then some.

Okay, then.  Maybe, Lyla was distracted.  Maybe, she wouldn’t notice that Felicity was feeding the children what may or may not be semi-forbidden breakfast foods.

“Mamma!  Choclit Muffn!” JJ announced, holding up a fist full on muffin remains.

And,  _damn_ , these kids!  Felicity was starting to believe they were way  _too_  honest.

Lyla’s eyes found them from across the room and she shook her head with a rueful little smile.  “I see.  Who said you could have a muffin?”

“Willm!” JJ immediately announced, pointing to his new friend.  And Felicity was just glad  _she_  hadn’t been thrown under the bus.  Lyla couldn’t be angry at  _William_.  He was just a kid

But William…he looked semi-panicked at the accusation and blurted out, “Felicity said we could.”

And… _hello_ , bus her old friend.

It wasn’t even accurate.  No one asked Felicity if  _JJ_  could have a muffin, just William.  And _then_ …

Samantha leaned over in her chair to get a good look at William.  Giving a very mom-look, she gestured to her cheek…right where William has a huge smear of chocolate from where he had just devoured his own massive muffin. “I see JJ isn’t the only one having dessert for breakfast.”

Frak!  No one told Felicity chocolate muffins were dessert.  They’re  _muffins_.  Muffins equaled breakfast!   _Not_ dessert!

If possible, Samantha’s  _mom_  gaze speared even more intently at her son.  “I don’t suppose you ate your eggs first?”  

Well…Samantha’s tone wasn’t  _that_  angry.  That was something, at least?  Right?

“Um…” Williams guilty eyes found Felicity and…

She panicked, okay?  Felicity full on, outright freaked-out  _panicked_.  

Which, of course, meant the babble to end all babbles.  

“I thought muffins were muffins and they _were_ breakfast.  Is that in a manual somewhere, that kids can’t have chocolate muffins for breakfast?  I have chocolate muffins for breakfast all the time.   _When_  I have something with my coffee.  Most of the time it’s just coffee.  I  _didn’t_  give them coffee. I  _swear_.  And William  _promised_  he’d have fruit and milk too…”

William nodded, holding up the banana as evidence.  It would have helped if it had been opened.

Crap.  And Felicity’s mouth kept going.  “And William hadn’t eaten  _anything_.  No eggs, nothing.  It’s been like  _days_.  Isn’t a chocolate muffin better than not eating  _anything_? And—”

“Breathe, Felicity.  It’s okay,” Samantha finally interrupted and she didn’t even look mad.  She was even smiling (a little).  “I’m not upset.  Besides, William knew better.  He was just taking advantage of the newbie.” She turned to William, who now had an irritated almost-teenager look firmly on his face.  “Don’t get used to it.  Felicity won’t be a newbie for long.”

The irritation fled from William’s face with lightning speed and his eyes widened.  “Does that mean we’re moving to Star City?”

JJ, realizing he was no longer the center of attention, wriggled out of Williams arm’s and scampered away.  Felicity didn’t notice where, she was completely focused on William and his mother.

When Samantha didn’t immediately deny it, William let out a whoop and threw himself at her.  “Thank you, Mom!”

But Samantha sighed, putting up a hand and stopping him.  “ _Sweetheart_ …”

William grunted, frowning as he drew back.  “ _Mo-om…”_

Taking his hands, Samantha drew the boy in between her knees, “William, sweetie.  I’m _considering_ moving to Star City.”

Looking skeptical, like he wasn’t sure if this was a win or not, William narrowed his eyes and asked, “Are you just  _saying_  that to—?”

“I’m saying  _that_ ,” Samantha said firmly, “because  _that’s_  what I mean.  I’m thinking it over very carefully.  Look, you keep telling me to treat you like a big kid—”

“I’m not a  _kid_!”  Felicity didn’t think that William stomped his foot, but she’d swear that he wanted to.

And, immediately, Samantha backtracked.  “Sorry.  Sorry.  I meant  _tween_.  You want me to stop treating you like a  _little_  kid and treat you like the young  _man_  you are, right?”

William nodded, though he looked sullen and more like that  _little kid_  than Felicity had seen so far.  

“Well, then, you are going to have to accept that I need time to think about where we are going to live.  I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep and I can’t make this kind of decision overnight.”

Scoffing, William rolled his eyes.  He was almost as good at that as he was at shrugging.  “That’s how you decided about New Hampshire.” And he, somehow, managed to sound both accusing and like a lost little boy at the same time.  But he never let go of his mother’s hands.

This time, it was Samantha who scoffed.  “Yeah, and look where that got us.”  Now her tone was wheedling and she wiggled William’s arms as she smiled up at him.  “Am I right?”

William finally gave her the smallest of smile.  “I  _hate_  New Hampshire.”

“So do I,” Samantha agreed, rather passionately, and that earned her an even bigger smile.  “Which is why we  _won’t_  be going back there.”

Hope flashed in William’s too blue eyes. “So…?”

“I’m considering  _both_  Star City  _and_  Central City,” Samantha told him firmly.  In a tone that brooked no further arguments.

Felicity really doubted that was going to stop William, though.  Not Mr. The-Queen-Stubbornness-Is-In-My-Blood.

But Felicity was rather shocked when William just slumped, pouting a little, almost whining when he said, “I’d rather live in Star City.”  He really did sound so much younger when he was talking to his mother.

“That is one of the things I’m considering.” The way Samantha said it would satisfy Felicity, but, then again, she wasn’t a traumatized 10 year-old boy.

“But  _dad’s_  in Star City.”

Felicity almost winced because she wasn’t sure that was a selling point for Samantha.

“You will get to see your father either way,” Samantha promised gently and it brightened William considerably and made Felicity smile.  Then Samantha lowered her voice and cajoled, “And we just  _might_  have to get you a phone.  Even though ten is  _way too young_  for a cell-phone.”

William seemed conflicted, which didn’t seem to be the response Samantha was hoping for. Or expecting.  Felicity considered jumping in and promising she’d trick out that phone, but wasn’t sure it was her place to interfere.  

Should she even be watching?  Her eyes found Oliver and he was watching just as intently and, if Felicity knew him, and she  _did_ , she’d swear he was holding his breath.  

“I’d rather move to Star City than have a phone,” William finally whispered.

Felicity’s hand flew to her mouth.  It was the only thing that kept the sob inside as her eyes filled with tears and her gaze instinctively found Oliver again.  He was looking right back at her with an emotional smile and watery eyes.  Felicity moved to Oliver’s side and his arm fell naturally around her shoulders, pulling her to him.

And Samantha’s face…there were tears in her eyes too as what William said sunk in.  She reached up and cupped William’s face, her voice raspy as she pleaded, “Just give me a few days to figure everything out.  Okay, sweetheart?”

William nodded, but his face was still so sad as he whimpered a small, “Okay.”

“And, William, don’t you  _ever_  doubt that I love you.” And now Felicity really felt like she should turn away, but she couldn’t make herself move.  “I love you  _so_  much—"

Samantha’s voice crackled and William’s face crumbled.  

“I know.  I know, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, sweetie.  But the things you said last night…they aren’t okay. You  _know_  that.”

“I know.  I know,” William, sobbed,  _really_  crying now, looking so very young, tugging at each and every one of Felicity’s heartstrings.

“It’s okay, sweetie.”

William threw himself into Samantha’s arms, sobbing into her shoulder, babbling a litany of, “I love you, mommy.  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean it.  I didn’t mean it.”

“Shhh…” Samantha hushed him, burying her own face in her son’s shoulder and soothing him with long strokes down his back and…Felicity was  _finally_  able to turn away.

Lucky for her, Felicity turned right into Oliver’s arms, his chest right there, the perfect place to bury her face, because this… _all_  of this was becoming way too much.  

Oliver’s arms enveloped her, folding her in comfort, as he turned both of them away from the emotional scene. He cupped the back of Felicity’s head and leaned his cheek against her hair.  

And,  _wow_.  That was…intense.  

Felicity balled her fists into the back of Oliver’s shirt and…she was just  _so grateful_  that he was here.  That they were  _together_.  This was the way things were  _supposed_  to be.  She was so grateful for every single person in this room, but mostly Oliver and…she  _really_  needed to call her mother.

And…

Felicity was so very  _done_  wasting time.  Guarding her heart.

Love.  

Family.  

_That_ was what was important.  

And it was _too important_ to hesitate.  Felicity just needed to jump in with both feet and pray for the best.

Lyla cleared her throat, giving everyone an excuse to turn their attention to her and give William and Samantha some privacy.

“Oliver, Felicity, I want you both to meet Captain Mitchell, of the United States Navy.  He’s the Commanding Officer of this ship and graciously agreed to join ARGUS on this mission.” Lyla gestured to a kindly looking older man in Naval Uniform.

Oliver held out his hand to the man and he took it in a firm handshake.  “Captain, Sir.   _Thank you_.” Oliver’s voice held a firm and genuine sort of gratitude that…Felicity didn’t know why, but it made her tears come harder, fall faster.

She really was a wreck.  Trying to compose herself, Felicity forced a smile and wiped her eyes hastily with the back of her hand, then turned and offered the Captain her hand as well and squeezing Oliver tight with the other.  

“Yes.  Thank you, Captain.”  Felicity was surprised at how steady her voice was, because she felt anything but.

“My pleasure, ma’am.” His handshake was gentle and he (believe it or not) gave her a little bow.  He was quite a gentleman, this captain…

The conversation started up around her, but Felicity couldn’t hear.  Blood had started to roar in her ears.

The _ship’s_   _captain_ …

She was so  _done_  waiting…

“So, you’re a  _captain_?” Felicity blurted out, interrupting whatever conversation had been going on around her and drawing stares.  They thought she was crazy.  “Of  _this_  ship?”  

Maybe, she was crazy.  But just a little.  

“Yes, indeed,” the Captain answered, still smiling.  He was the only one not looking at Felicity like she had lost it.

Oliver was frowning down at her.  “Fel—”

“Can you marry people?”

Felicity could feel Oliver stiffen at her words, his breath catching and his hand spasming at her waist.  There might have been a soft gasp in the background.

But Captain Mitchell just grinned wider.  “Well,  _actually,_  I can.  I  _have_.  It’s a funny story—”

Normally, Felicity would care, but…

“Can you marry  _us_?”

 

_Revised 1/17/18_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so wow that was a long chapter.  I think I got comfortable with the shorter ones again.  Please, let me know if it was too long.  They are easy enough to split.  :-). There is so much in here this is going to be a long author’s note so bare with me.
> 
> So, Felicity didn’t have to use her loud voice and on re reading I did wonder if the Samantha issue was resolved too quickly (not that it’s 100% resolved, but it’s so much better), but this story can’t go on forever.  I hope, you, like Felicity understand where Samantha is coming from a little more now.  The part at the end where William forgives his mom and asks for forgiveness is reminiscent of the end of _so many_ of my kid’s meltdowns.  I hope it resonates and is as real as I felt it was.
> 
> The chocolate muffin…I might have gotten obsessed with the chocolate muffin (I rewind a bit in the next chapter with Oliver’s pov and the muffin comes back).  If it isn’t obvious, it started to represent every stupid little parenting decision that we _agonize_ over and second guess and judge each other for, that feels _so_ important (but probably isn’t), especially as a new parent.  I hope it was funny too.
> 
> I have JJ here and I know many (maybe, most) prefer Baby Sara, but Baby JJ is who we have and that’s who I’m going with in this verse.  Hopefully, he was like-able.   
> 
> If you don’t know what ROBLOX is, it’s exactly as William describes.  It looks kinda like Minecraft but kids can build their own games and play each other’s.  At least, that’s how my kids described it.  Around here, anyway, it’s THE hot game that all the kids 6-12 play on their tablets and computers.   Mostly, I used it as a way for Felicity and William to bond.
> 
> The usual thank yous so much to  **Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed, and Ireland1733** who are now having to flip back and forth between fics with me.   
> 
> Thank you all so much!!!
> 
> Emmy
> 
>  


	13. Falling (to Your Knees)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> This chapter begins with a bit of a rewind, from Oliver’s pov, which I know is hard with the cliffhanger from the last chapter. Sorry about that, but…there were things that Oliver wanted to show us.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

 

Oliver didn’t know how she did it or what she said, but he would swear that Felicity had accomplished a  _fucking_  miracle.

In twenty minutes, Felicity had managed to do what Oliver couldn’t in all those secret, guilt-ridden trips to Central City.  Felicity had convinced Samantha that he had changed.  To give him a chance.  To allow him…them… _all of them_  into William’s life.  To work  _with_ them, instead of against them.  

Yup, Felicity was a God _damn_  miracle worker.  And Oliver really didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky.

On top of that, Samantha was actually considering moving to Star City.  And after last night…

Oliver could finally admit to himself that he hadn’t thought it was going to happen, not without lawyers, which he really didn’t want to use.  Mostly, though, Oliver had dreaded William’s disappointment and he was afraid of the lengths it would drive him to.

God, Oliver was so thankful that he wouldn’t have to find out.

Even the second option Samantha was considering, her and William moving back to Central City and William visiting Star City twice a month…along with  _unlimited_  access to his son on the phone and Skype …Oliver had to admit  _that_  was better than anything he thought he would get from Samantha.  Voluntarily, anyway.

Don’t get him wrong, Oliver  _very much_  wanted his son in  _his_  city, where he could be involved in his day to day life, where he could keep a close eye on him, but…William living in Star City hadn’t been anything Oliver allowed himself to consider before.  The Central City arrangement, it was kind of Oliver’s dream come true… _literally_.  It was  _exactly_  he had wanted, what he had been working toward all those months that he had been visiting William in secret, trying to convince Samantha that he could and  _would_  be a good father to their son.

Oliver had thought… _hoped_  that after he and Felicity were married and he was mayor (and after the Darhk threat removed), Samantha would see that he was a responsible man who could provide a stable place for William to visit.  That she would,  _eventually_ , relent.

Now, it was pretty clear that that was an idiotic plan and that Oliver should have turned to Felicity right away.   Lesson (so incredibly) learned.  

In fact, Oliver was pretty sure ( _because of Felicity_ ) this was the most pleasant conversation he had ever had with Samantha.  Well, in eleven years at least.  

Samantha didn’t even seem bothered by how well Felicity and William were hitting it off.  Felicity even appeared to be getting William to eat which Oliver had tried…and failed ( _miserably)_  at.  

Yeah, he was 100% sure she was gonna be the better parent.  Felicity was a natural.  Oliver saw William stuff a chocolate muffin in his mouth and he grinned.  Though…

That really didn’t seem like the healthiest choice.  “Those muffins seem more like dessert than breakfast,” Oliver, murmured, almost to himself.  

Which, unfortunately, had Samantha’s eyes jerking to William as she frowned.  _Fuck_.  Oliver shouldn’t have said anything.  What was  _wrong_  with him?

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Samantha turned back to her own plate, muttering, “William’s been angling for that damn chocolate muffin all morning.”

And things had been going so well.  Now, Samantha was probably pissed at Felicity and thinking she was incompetent and it was  _only_  a chocolate muffin, what was the big deal anyway?

Taking a deep breath, Oliver tried to swallow his defensive panic and went with diplomacy, “I’m sure if Felicity had known that you said ‘no’—”

Samantha put up her hand, giving Oliver a small, if tired smile, and shaking her head again.  “It’s fine.  You need to learn to let these things go.  Besides, at this point, I’m just glad he’s eating something,  _anything_.  And by Felicity giving it to him,” Samantha’s grin widened, a shrewd light in her eye, “it’s not  _me_  giving in to the power struggle.  I’ll just tell William later that he had better eat a really good lunch and he’ll probably feel guilty enough to do it.”

Oliver just stared at her.  His mouth hanging open (like a fool, he was certain).  He wasn’t sure if he was impressed or terrified.  Finally, he managed to say, “This parenting thing is a lot more complicated than it looks, isn’t it?”

Chuckling, Samantha’s tired eyes brightened.  “It’s certainly not for the faint of heart.  And, lucky you,  _you_  get to start right at beginning to puberty.”  She patted Oliver’s hand and he couldn’t help but feel there was a part of her that was going to enjoy watching him flounder a bit.

But that was okay.  Oliver would gladly serve as Samantha’s entertainment to get a chance to be an  _actual_  parent to William.  Looking at Samantha…

“Tell me about him.”  The words just popped out of Oliver’s mouth before he really thought about what he was saying and Samantha tipped her head to the side, her forehead crinkling.  “William.  Would you…?” Oliver sucked in a deep breath.  “There’s so much I don’t know.”

Samantha’s face became serious, maybe even cautious, but not  _dis_ pleased.  “What do you want to know?”

What a  _question_?  What  _didn’t_  he want to know?

All the air left Oliver’s lungs and he said, “ _Everything_.  All of it.  From the beginning.”  He chuckled, but there was a bitter edge as he thought of everything he had missed.  “What kind of baby was he?  What was his first word?  Has William always…had a mind of his own?  Was he a cuddler?  Does he have allergies?  Fears?  Has he ever had a pet—?”

Samantha broke off Oliver’s very Felicity-esque babble with a tearful laugh and the look in her eyes, it wasn’t suspicion anymore it was…almost wonder.  She leaned in and squeezed Oliver’s hand.  “I think we’re going to be okay.”  Then she nodded again, almost to herself.

And while Oliver was very happy that Samantha approved of his curiosity, he really wished she’d start answering, because the questions were now burning a hole in the back of his brain and—

“JJ here!”

Oliver’s gaze was immediately drawn to the door and he couldn’t help but smile as John walked in with his  _very_  happy little boy perched on his arm.  Lyla, Quintin, and a man who must be an officer on this ship followed them in.  Oliver had no idea that Lyla had brought JJ, but was thrilled for John (and JJ) that she had had the forethought to do so.

Digg had spent far too much time apart from his son in the last year and, while Oliver knew, rationally, that wasn’t his fault, well…

He had tried to be there for JJ while Digg was back in the army and, later, when he had been locked up, even though being around JJ had been bittersweet at best, downright painful at worst.  The boy had always reminded Oliver of what he couldn’t have.

First, when JJ was a baby, he reminded Oliver of everything that he wanted with Felicity but couldn’t have.  Then, later, it was everything Oliver had and  _was_  missing with his own son.  After Darhk kidnapped William and he went into hiding…it was both.  Ten times worse and  _both_.

It had been hard…so  _damn_  hard, but with Digg away and JJ’s only uncle being both an asshole and dead, Oliver had tried to give JJ something resembling a father figure.  He knew he was a pathetic substitute for John, but he’d tried.

“Go, say hello to your friend’s son, Oliver,” Samantha said softly, pulling him out of the daze he hadn’t even known he was in.  She gave him a small smile.  “We have plenty of time to talk about William’s favorite baby food.  ‘JJ’s here’ now.”

“I…” Oliver was torn.  There were plenty of people here to pay attention to JJ, but William was—

JJ decided the issue by screaming, “Unca Owie!”

Oliver knew the boy was lunging for him before he could even caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye.  He was on his feet and moving the minute the words left JJ’s mouth.  

Oliver knew from experience that Little John had a fondness for throwing himself from things and expecting himself to be caught.  The last thing Oliver wanted was to be the first one to let the little boy fall.

But, of course, Digg wasn’t going to let that happen.  “Whoa there, little man.” John tightened his hold, grabbing JJ’s legs and keeping him suspended long enough for Oliver to snatch him out of his dad’s arms.

Grabbing JJ around his middle, Oliver kept him upside down and lifted him over his head.  “Hey, Jay.  What’s ya doing hanging around up there?”

JJ squealed with delight.  He’d always loved this.  Flying through the air.  Being swung around. Upside down.  Sideways.  Whatever.  The kid was a little daredevil and had been from the first time he had seemed sturdy enough for Oliver to hold over his head.  This was kinda their thing.

Sometimes, Oliver wondered if Baby Sara, the little girl he had never known, would have been just as rough and tumble.  Somehow, knowing her parents, Oliver thought she would have been a little spit-fire.  He also couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been less painful to be around a little girl.

Flipping JJ over (with maximum acrobatics), Oliver got him right-side up and hugged him to his chest.

It didn’t really matter.  Baby Sara was just an idea.   _This_  little boy, here, in his arms, was his godson.  He was the one he had visited hours after his birth, who he had seen Felicity hold and wished…Oliver pressed his lips to JJ’s cheek and the boy squealed, again, as he was tickled by his scruff and…

Oliver’s eyes automatically found Felicity across the room, standing next to William, talking in hushed tones and realized…

It was all back on the table.

Felicity holding a baby… _their_  baby.  It  _could_  happen.  God, what a fucking miracle.

JJ wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck, squeezing hard enough to choke him (if Oliver’s neck was a little less thick) and Oliver shared a smile with John, who had slipped an arm around Lyla’s waist.

John had confessed to Oliver, one night over Jack Daniel’s, that ever since he had heard about baby Sara, he couldn’t get out of his head the idea of having a little sister for JJ.  As complicated and difficult as their lives were…John had told him that it felt like there was this little soul out there.  Just waiting to be born.

Oliver knew that it had to be late and pretty far into that bottle of Jack for John to get that sentimental, but he also knew that if his friend said  _that_ out loud, it was something that had really grabbed a hold of him.  John wasn’t the overly sentimental type.

He wanted that for John.  Oliver’s eyes,  _again_ , found William and Felicity.  He wanted that little sister for JJ and he wanted a little sister for William.  He _wanted_ …

_God_.  How Oliver _wanted_.

The urge to throw himself at Felicity’s feet and beg her to marry him and have his babies was just shy of completely overpowering.

Luckily (or not), Oliver had a ton of experience ignoring that  _very_  impulse.  It was far from the first time he dealt with it.

So, instead of humiliating himself, Oliver leaned in and whispered in JJ’s ear, “You know who you haven’t said ‘hello’ to?”

JJ looked at him with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t imagine who.  Which was particularly amusing since there was close to a dozen people in this room who all loved JJ and would probably like a ‘hello’.

“Aunt Felicity,” Oliver told him in his best dramatic whisper.

“Huuh!” JJ gasped, as if it was the biggest revelation of all time.  His eyes flew around the room until they found Felicity and, immediately, he pushed away from Oliver (as he had known the boy would) screaming, “An Wicity!”

His little feet were running before they even touched the floor and Oliver winced, because JJ at full speed could  _hurt_.  He only relaxed when he saw that Felicity had managed to capture him and swing him into her arms.  

After that, Oliver couldn’t do more than stand there and stare.

As the love of his life introduced his godson to his  _son_.  

It…it really didn’t feel real.  Things  _this good_  didn’t happen to Oliver Queen.  This was maybe the tenth time he’d thought that since he woke up this morning with Felicity in his arms and…yet,  _somehow_ , things kept getting  _better_.  

Oliver listened to the three of their’s conversation (he tried to be covert about it, but he doubted he was fooling anyone). He knew he should probably go over there and try to help out, but he couldn’t seem to make his legs move.

He was pretty sure if he _did_ go over he was going to start crying and it was one thing to tear up when he was alone with Felicity, but Oliver sure as _hell_ wasn’t crying stupid happy tears in front of his team  _and_  his son.  

He stood frozen as Felicity introduced JJ to William, then as Samantha accepted Felicity into her son’s life with a casual remark about how she’d ‘learn’, as William collapsed into his mother’s arms, sobbing, mending a relationship Oliver hadn’t realized how deeply he’d been worried about.

And, when Felicity finally turned from the emotional scene of William and his mother and into Oliver’s arms, it felt like that  _last_  ton of bricks had just been lifted from his shoulders.   He buried his hand in Felicity’s hair and the silky feel of it slipping through his fingers washed all the stress away.

He squeezed his eyes shut and,  _again_ , fought the impulse to plead with Felicity to make them a  _real_  family.  In  _every_  way.  Oliver bit his lip and pressed his mouth to her temple.  It took all his will power not to fall to his knees  _right there_  and propose.  Again.  And, this time, he wouldn’t put it past himself to beg.

It was the epitome of selfishness, really.  Of  _greed._  Oliver knew that.  He had been given so much, right here in this room.  Who was he to ask for  _more_?  Like the spoiled child he had always been, he always wanted _more_.

But the desire to solidify what he had found here was real.  Was  _that_  selfish?  Oliver was terrified of losing it all again, even though, rationally, he knew that holding tight wasn’t what was going to keep Felicity in his arms.  Pressuring and suffocating an independent woman like her could only push her away.  

But Felicity had said that she was sick of baby-steps, that she wanted to wake up with him every morning for the next _fifty years_ and…

Oliver just prayed that she still felt that way when the heady buzz of surviving a near death experience faded and they were back in their everyday lives (their very new and very  _different,_  everyday lives) in Star City.

Until then, Oliver needed to learn to enjoy what he had and not press for more.

He was grateful for the distraction when Lyla introduced them to the captain of this carrier (his will power could only last so long) and it was good to have the chance to thank the man who he owed so much. If it wasn’t for the Navy and ARGUS, Oliver had no fucking clue how he would have gotten everyone out of that damn hole.

Oliver was a pretty good judge of character (well, maybe not.  He  _had_  trusted Adrian for far too long), but this Captain Mitchell seemed like an honest, straight forward man.  Nothing like the generals he’d encountered in his time.  Also, it was nice to have a simple conversation that wasn’t heart-wrenchingly emotional.

He was starting to worry about Felicity, though.  Oliver fully understood why the scene with Samantha and William had brought her to tears, but…the tears didn’t seem to be slowing down.  Her face was buried in his chest and she was holding on to him for dear life.  Maybe, it was all catching up with her.

Oliver was starting to wonder if he should bring her back to the cabin when Felicity blurted out, “So, you’re a  _captain_?” Which was an odd and concerning thing to say since she had just addressed the man as ‘Captain’ a few minutes ago. “Of  _this_  ship?”  

Okay…it was  _definitely_  time to bring Felicity back to the cabin.  Maybe she hadn’t gotten a much sleep as Oliver thought.  

“Yes, indeed.” Captain Mitchell smiled, thankfully not realizing how… _odd_  this behavior was for Felicity. He was probably used to traumatized civilians.  Not that Oliver would consider Felicity a civilian.

Oliver pulled back to try to meet her eyes, but she refused to loosen her hold, refused to look anywhere but the captain.  “Fel—”

“Can you marry people?”

Oliver froze.  In fact, he was certain that he felt like a marble statue beneath her hands. But…

_What_?

He uh…whoa… _no_ , Oliver couldn’t have heard her right.  He just _couldn’t_ have.

Maybe…Oliver actually wondered if,  _he_  was the one who said it.  Which would have been weird, yes, but, perhaps he had just caught Felicity’s penchant for speaking her thoughts out loud the way he now, occasionally, babbled like her when he was nervous.

But, no, if that were the case, if Oliver had asked the question, then Felicity would be looking at him.  Most likely as if he were insane.

And Felicity’s eyes were still trained on the captain and Oliver thought, maybe, he could feel her trembling the tiniest bit.

Then Captain Mitchell answered with, “Well, actually I can.  I  _have_.  It’s a funny story—”

It was a benign enough answer, but Oliver’s brain was still…spasming or… _something_.  Because, this was…he just couldn’t believe that Felicity was just making conversation.  This wasn’t something she would take lightly.

Was it?   Maybe, Oliver shouldn’t rule that out as a possibility.  It made more sense than...

Maybe, he was hallucinating.    Except, he didn’t think he’d ever had a hallucination this... _pleasant_  before.  A dream?  This could definitely be a dream.  

“Can you marry  _us_?”

Okay.  This was  _definitely_  a dream.  Because there was  _no_   _way_  that Felicity… _his_  Felicity had just asked _that_.  

And, also, Oliver didn’t think he was breathing.

Was that a problem?  He thought, maybe, breathing was important.  Oliver needed all the oxygen he could get at the moment. His poor brain wasn’t doing well. 

“Well...” For the first time, the captain looked hesitant, as if he were finally understanding that this wasn’t a casual question.  That, actually, it was _enormous_.  His eyes darted from face to face as he answered, “Yes, I can.  As long as you are on this ship, I can marry anyone.  Did you mean… _now_?”

Oliver thought he might pass out for a brief second.  The blood was rushing from his head.  Or was it  _to_  is head?   

He waited for Felicity to…laugh it off.  To babble and say that she meant to say something different.  To…say  _anything._

But Digg didn’t let Felicity respond.  Stepping forward, he put a hand on Felicity’s shoulder. “Okay, let’s slow down here.”  He turned his dark eyes on Oliver’s…girlfriend?  That still didn’t feel like the right word.  “Felicity, if this is a hypothetical question, I think it best you say so now, because your boyfriend doesn’t seem to be breathing and he might be on the verge of a heart attack.”

Truer words had never been spoken.

Felicity turned wide eyes to Oliver and he saw his own fear and excitement and  _hope_  reflected back in them.

Dear God…was this  _real_?  

It  _couldn’t_  be.

Felicity’s lips trembled, then spread, teeth finding her bottom lip as she looked up into Oliver’s eyes and murmured, “Not hypothetical.  Not at all.”

Oliver, somehow, found himself smiling back, and, maybe, getting a little lost in the blue of her eyes.  Though, his brain… _that_  had skittered to a full stop.  Probably from lack of oxygen.

“Are we talking  _now_?” Dinah pipped up and asked, her tone practical as ever.  It was really good to have someone so levelheaded on the team.  “Because as romantic as this is, you  _are_  aware that we are all wearing slipper socks?”

“Whoa!  Whoa whoa  _whooooa_!”  Thea came barreling over from the other side of the room, JJ on her hip, looking far from little pressed against her small frame. Curtis followed two steps behind, with the same wide-eyes excitement as JJ.  “ _What_  is going on here?!”

Felicity, still staring into Oliver’s eyes, did this giddy little nose wrinkle thing that was too adorable for words, but…she was really going to have to be the one to answer, because Oliver, he had no fucking  _clue_  what was happening.  Even if he  _was_  capable of speaking.

But, then, William (of all people) answered for them.  “Oliver and Felicity are getting married!” he squealed and it was perhaps the  _only_ thing that could tear Oliver’s eyes from the woman in his arms.  

William was vibrating from excitement, bouncing on his heels.  And it was almost as shocking and… _amazing_  as Felicity’s words.  Felicity suggesting they get married?  Right away?  William not only being accepting, but  _excited_?  Surely, this was just more evidence that this was a dream.  

Certainly, nothing  _felt_  real.  

The air almost seemed thicker than usual, like Oliver was moving through water.

“What!  No, they are  _not_!” Thea protested.  Rather vehemently.

Oliver’s eyes flew to his sister’s, at her…rather unexpected reaction as he tried not to feel hurt.  Since when had she had a problem with him marrying Felicity?  Or was this where the dream turned into a nightmare?  

Thea’s free hand (the one not holding a wide-eyed JJ) flew through the air, gesturing toward their collective bodies…and, well, their matching blue outfits.  “We are all wearing sweatpants and t-shirts.  With  _logos._  And  _slipper socks_.  No  _way_  my only brother is getting married in matching ARGUS work-out clothes,  _especially_  not to the love of his life!  No way, no how!  Not gonna happen!”  

Thea got more and more hysterical the longer she spoke.  But, yeah,  _that_ , at least, was the sister Oliver knew and loved.

“They are not even engaged!” Thea squealed, but, then, her eyes narrowed and she turned accusing eyes on Oliver and Felicity.  “Are you two engaged?”  Thea was scowling and JJ was beaming, enjoying the impassioned tirade quite a bit, it seemed.  “You had  _better_  not have gotten engaged without telling me!”

Then, before Oliver could deny it (because he was pretty certain he would remember if they gotten re-engaged) Thea lunged over and punched Oliver in the shoulder, making JJ laugh uproariously and…

“Ow!  Thea, what the hell?” Oliver was shell-shocked.  Though, oddly enough, Thea’s punch helped.  Because as tiny as she was,  _her_  punch packed a, well, a punch.  It helped snap Oliver out of the fog.  “And,  _no…_ just _no_!”

That punch didn’t feel like a dream.  So…that meant…

Just in case this  _was_  happening, Oliver pulled Felicity closer.  He sure as hell didn’t want her to take his frazzled words as a rejection.  Because he certainly  _did_  want to get re-engaged.  

As soon as possible.  

As long as it was the right thing to do for their future, that was.

And Oliver had no idea if it was the right thing or not.  

Also, assuming, this was  _actually_  happening.

Felicity held Oliver tight, but she turned her eyes to Thea, her lips pressed together as if to contain a laugh…what the  _hell_  was going on in that brilliant mind of hers?

“You had better not be lying!” It didn’t seem like Thea was letting go of this rant.  “If you proposed last night and didn’t tell me  _immediately_ —”

“ _No one proposed_!” Oliver almost yelled, finally finding his voice.  Why did he feel like he had been dropped head first into crazy-town?

Then Dinah raised her hand.  “Actually…I would argue that Felicity just popped the question with the whole let’s get married _now_ thing.”  

Had Oliver said that Dinah was the level-headed one?  Because, clearly not…

_Wait_.

Oliver’s stomach dropped.  Not necessarily in a  _bad_  way, it was just…

Was  _that_  what was happening?  Was Felicity  _proposing_?  And, after, Oliver had spent the last hour trying to talk himself out of doing the  _exact_  same thing?

“Does that  _count_?  I’m really not sure it does,” Curtis argued, his head tipped to the side…and hadn’t he been on the other side of the room playing with JJ and Thea?  How the hell would he know? “Felicity kinda asked the  _officiant_ , not the groom.”

“If that was a proposal, it sucked!”

“ _William_!” Samantha’s reprimand beat Oliver to the punch, which was good because he was back to feeling like all his words were stuck in his throat.  In fact, his tongue felt thick and his thoughts were racing again.

“I agree with the kid,” Rene added and, crap, it was  _never_  a good thing when he joined in.  The shit-eating grin he turned their way confirmed it.  “Blondie, you need to get down on your knee and ask, proper-like.”

“ _Rene_ ,” Oliver growled, because that shook the words free.  But he was too far away to…  “Can someone…?”

Immediately, Digg and Dinah reached over to smack the back on Rene’s head.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t hard enough to shake his damn grin free.  

But then, a beat later, Nyssa leaned in and slapped the back of his head.  Pretty damn hard it looked like, because Rene grabbed the back of his head and turned to her, hissing, “What the  _hell_ , Nyssa?”

“Is that not the custom?” Nyssa asked blandly, a small (but powerful) smirk across her face.

Oliver was getting pretty sick of all of them and their ridiculous antics, mostly, because they were making it even harder to  _think_.   He looked down at Felicity, hoping that would somehow help, but she was looking up at him with this mischievous smile and a loving expression and…

Uh oh…

Her smile spread and she all but chirped, “Okay.”  

Then Felicity started to sink to her knees and Oliver really  _was_  going to have a heart-attack.

Curtis let out a high-pitched shriek, his hand flying up to cover his mouth, as the sound mixed with William’s excited squeal and Rene’s full belly laugh.

“Oh… _my_ …God…” Thea gasped and that rather echoed Oliver’s own thoughts, though with a lot less swearing.

Holy fuck…was more accurate and Oliver couldn’t…wait,  _no way_ he was letting Felicity kneel in front of all these people!  

Oliver grabbed Felicity’s elbows, lifting her back to her feet before her knees could hit the cold tile floor.  “No!  No no no no…”

Felicity’s smile faltered and…

Fuck!  Now, he was  _really_  getting this all ass backwards.  “No kneeling,” Oliver told her, his voice lowered to a whisper.  “Baby, you don’t have to do this?” and he really hoped she could tell by the look in his eyes that the  _last thing_  he was doing was saying ‘no’ to her.  

Her smile returned, so it seemed like she did.  Thank God.  “I want to.”  And Felicity said it so sweetly, Oliver almost melted at  _her_  feet.

A lump formed in Oliver’s throat and…great, now he  _was_  going to cry.  In front of the team.  In front of his _son_.  He was never going to live any of this down and…

“ _Daaad_ , just let her propose already.” William’s hand was on his shirt, tugging at it and Felicity’s smile spread.  

“Yeah,  _daaad_ , let me propose already,” she whispered.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty…”_  Oliver’s hands clenched on her elbows, his thoughts tripping over themselves.  There were too many people talking.  He couldn’t  _think_!

Then Digg added, “Kneeling isn’t  _really_  necessary.”  

Thank God, a voice of reason.  At least, John—

“But someone needs to actually _ask_ ,” and Digg, the _traitor_ , just smiled this stupid innocent smile.

Dammit!  Oliver threw a hard look at John, very tempted to punch him, but the ass’ grin was completely unflappable.

“Yeah,  _ask_!” William insisted and he didn’t seem to care who did the asking, but he seemed pretty passionate about it happening.

In fact, it set JJ off and he started chanting, “Ask!  Ask!  Ask…”  The toddler even clapped with the words.  Like he was asking for more goldfish at snack time

The roomful of grins did nothing to discourage the little devil.  Then Rene,  _that_  bastard...

“I still say it doesn’t count unless she gets down on her knee—Ow!   _Dammit_ , Nyssa!”  This time Rene used both hands to rub his head, grimacing in pain.

“I  _like_  this custom,” Nyssa announced and Oliver was tempted to give her Rene’s spot on the team.

“Is it even sanitary to kneel on this floor?” Curtis asked, earning a glare from Lyla.

“Yes,” the ARGUS Director scoffed, sending an apologetic look to the captain who just looked bemused and…frankly,  _amused_ by this entire circus.  “Yes, it is.”

Oliver was certain he was living in a coo-coo-clock.

“I’m pretty sure Oliver knelt in the  _dirt_  when he proposed,” Quintin threw out, joining the insanity.   And why was _he_ joining, exactly?  “Call me a traditionalist, I think Oliver should do the kneeling.  It only seems right, since he’s getting the better end of the deal.”

Oh,  _that_  was why.

“Ooo, truth.” Rene nodded.

No one hit Rene this time, but…Oliver couldn’t say that he didn’t 100% agree with him.  

Forgetting the fact that they really needed to talk about this and that Oliver needed to make sure that Felicity wasn’t rushing into it as some sort of trauma response…Oliver started to sink to his knee, because…wasn’t that what he had wanted to do since he woke up this morning?

“ _Shit_ ,” Rene breathed.  And this time he  _did_  earn another hit.

“Rene,” Dinah hissed. “ _Language_.  There are kids here!”

“Damn.  My bad.” Rene immediately apologized.  Poorly.

It didn’t stop Lyla from calling out a firm, “JJ, don’t you _ever_ repeat _anything_ Rene says, you hear me?”

Oliver didn’t see the response.  He was, in fact, only half paying attention, because the second he had started to go to his knee, Felicity latched onto Oliver like a monkey, using her full weight to keep him standing.  “Oh, no, you don’t.  It’s  _my_  turn.”

All Oliver could do was huff out a laugh and shake his head.  Because he was never going to be okay with Felicity kneeling in front of the team (never mind him).

“Is  _someone_  going to propose already?” Rene groaned.  Because it was completely logical that _he_  care so much!

“Yeah!” JJ agreed, giggling.

Then Digg turned to his son with a, “Don’t agree with anything Uncle Rene says, either.”

“Hey,” Rene, actually, sounded insulted this time.  “You know I’m a dad, too.  I know how to be appropriate around kids—"

“Oh my God, this is so romantic,” Curtis squealed, ignoring whatever the hell was going on over there and Oliver thought he might just prefer Rene’s reaction.  “Does anyone have a phone?  We need a video of this!”

“Lyla?  Do you have one?” Thea asked and Oliver’s eyes snapped opened wide.  They  _had_  to be kidding!  “Chase took all of ours.”

Seriously?  This was just too much!  

“Okay, you know what?” Oliver was done with this circus.  So done.  He wrapped an arm around Felicity’s back and straightened up to his full height.  He turned to look at the room full of faces…amused, hopeful, excited…all of them staring at Oliver and Felicity expectantly.  And…

No.

They were not doing this. Just… _no_.

Clearing his throat, Oliver asked in his best mayoral voice, “Can everyone give us the room?”

Everyone froze.

And turned to look at Lyla.

“What, you…?” Lyla looked confused, her eyes snapped to Captain Mitchell, who just shrugged, then back at Oliver.  “You want us…to _all_   leave?”

“Please,” Oliver sighed, feeling like he could finally breathe.  Thank goodness.

Except…Lyla’s face scrunched up and she didn’t seem at that pleased.  In fact, she looked pretty damn irritated.  “ _No_!  This isn’t your ship, Oliver.  You can’t just order everyone to leave.”

But…

Oliver deflated.  That made it sound so…rude.  He wasn’t ordering anyone around (though, they were  _his_  team).  He was just asking for some privacy.  “I said  _please_ ,” he finally muttered, feeling… _thrown_  and annoyed by Lyla’s response.

But, now, Lyla was completely incredulous.  “Do you…do this a  _lot_?  Ask for the room and expect everyone to just  _leave_?”

What the hell?  What was the big deal with asking for some privacy?

“Yup,” Rene answered immediately.

And Thea’s response was right on Rene’s heels.  “All.  The.  Time.”

“And people just  _do it_?” Lyla prodded, sounding like she didn’t actually believe it.

“Pretty much.”  That was Curtis, this time, the big dope nodding like a fool.  Oliver was starting to feel the sting of betrayal.  Why were they ganging up on him like this?  And did they have to do this  _now_?  All he wanted was a few minutes alone with Felicity, for Christ’s sake.

Then there was another, “Yup,” from Rene, who couldn’t  _not_  add his two cents.  Not that Oliver expected any less, but Thea…

“ _All the time_ ,” his sister repeated and that stung.  If it bothered her so much why hadn’t Thea said anything?  “We will be having a city council meeting and Oliver will be just like ‘Can I have the room’ and twenty people just get up and leave so that he can talk to  _one_  person.  And sometimes, it’s not even an  _important_  person.”

Okay, well,  _that_  was why Thea was jumping on the Attack Oliver Wagon.  He barely refrained from rolling his eyes, because the only visitor to the mayors office that Thea would call ‘not important’ was Susan Williams.  

“Lyla?” Oliver asked, feeling a little lost and worried that he sounded like a little boy.  Felicity’s face was buried in his chest, her whole body shaking with (almost) silent laughter…so no help there.

Finally, Lyla seemed to take pity on him.  Shaking her head, she looked at him with an exasperated indulgence Oliver had often seen her use with JJ (and John), and said, “You two can have some privacy through that door.” She pointed behind him.  “There’s a small kitchen attached.”

“ _Thank_  you,” Oliver exhaled, profoundly relieved, and grabbed Felicity’s hand.  They needed to get away from this freak show right the fuck  _now_.

“Aw, man,” William’s disappointment rang out behind them.

Oliver probably would have felt bad about it if Curtis didn’t turn to William and say, “It’s okay, Will, they’ll be engaged by the time they time they get back.   _Guaranteed_!”

Oliver really hoped someone would hit  _him_  on the back of his fluffy head, but he had a feeling Curtis would only be getting a fist bump from William for his trouble.

“Remember,” Thea yelled, as Oliver opened the door and ushered Felicity through, “slipper-socks are off the table.”

God _damn_  siblings.  The door closed behind him and Oliver sagged back against it.  He could finally breathe.   And  _think_.

Then, meeting the bright eyes of love of his life, Oliver asked the only question that was important right then.  

“What. Was.  _That_?”

Felicity grinned, her face…her whole body exuding this wild happy  _excitement_.   It was a look that couldn’t  _not_  make Oliver smile back.  Then a giddy…almost delirious laugh bubbled out and she shook her head.  “I’m not sure?”

Oliver laughed too and his was downright  _delirious_ , because as great as this all was…what the  _fuck_!  Felicity didn’t  _know_?  How could she start this and not  _know_?  John was right, Oliver was going to have a heart attack.

“Felicity!  You just asked the captain of the ship to marry us!   _This ship_.  There’s skipping steps and there’s… _demolishing_  steps.  I’m pretty damn sure that  _this_  is a hell of a lot more than skipping to the  _middle_!”

Immediately, Oliver had the urge to kick himself.  Why was he even arguing?  It wasn’t like _he_ had any desire to go slow.  But impulsivity was not the best way to start a lifelong relationship.  He’d learned  _that_  the hard way.

But the grin Felicity gave Oliver …God, help him.  “Well, I don’t think it’s fair to say getting married is skipping to the  _end_.  It’s more like a...different beginning.  Of that fifty years we talked about.”

Christ, Felicity was trying to kill him.  Also, she was so beautiful.  And _that_ sounded so _fucking_ wonderful.

Oliver was across the room in two long steps and, before he knew it, his lips were on hers and Felicity was tugging at his hair and her tongue… _God_ , her tongue…

All thoughts happily left Oliver’s overtaxed brain.  And, this time, he didn’t fight it.

He didn’t know how long they went on like that (not long enough as far as Oliver was concerned) before Felicity pulled her lips from his.  Though from the way she gasped when she did, Oliver thought, maybe, it was so she could breathe.  He’d allow it.  

“Wow…okay, so that’s a ‘yes,’ then?” Felicity asked, all wide-eyed and panting.

“Yes, to what?” Oliver breathed, blinking.  He was dizzy again.  Though, if Felicity was asking it was safe to say the answer was ‘yes’.

Felicity’s giddy laugh filled the small room.  “To my proposal, silly!”

Oliver’s stomach dropped.  Then did a backflip.  Or twelve.  Okay…so they really  _were_  going there.  He was having a hard time accepting it, but…

Wow.  This was real.  Oliver was going to have to take this seriously.  “I…uh…gotta agree with Curtis, I don’t think questioning an officiant is the same as a proposal.”

Not that Oliver was  _asking_  for a proposal.  He was just trying to find his feet here.  To start a conversation.

“Fine,” Felicity announced and her tone…it was firm, determined.  And it made Oliver nervous as fuck.  “Let me go and I’ll just—”

Christ, that was  _not_  what Oliver was getting at.  He could tell that Felicity was trying to get on her knees.  And…nope…no way…

Oliver’s hold tightened.  “You are _not_ getting on your knees!”

“Why not?” Felicity had on her confused, Oliver-is-being-ridiculous face.  He knew that expression well.

“Because…because…” Oliver realized, then, that he had no idea why the idea was so abhorrent to him.  “It’s just not  _right_.”

Felicity (predictably) rolled her eyes.  “Stop being sexist.  Equal opportunity proposing, equal opportunity kneeling.”

“That’s not what…” But the problem was, Oliver didn’t know  _what_  he meant.  “Felicity, honey,” he cupped her face, praying that he could make some sort of sense that she would understand, “we need to…we need to  _talk_  about this before there is  _any_  proposing, kneeling or otherwise.”

Not that Oliver was ever going to be okay with her kneeling for him,  _ever_.  But they could deal with that later.  (Well, occasionally, for sexy-time purposes, but only if her knees were cushioned and he had an opportunity to reciprocate.)

“Since when does a proposal need a discussion?  When _you_ proposed, we didn’t discuss it first,” and damn if Felicity didn’t seem indignant about it.

“Actually, I’m _we did_ ,” Oliver reminded her gently, “there was a very memorable discussion in Darhk’s—”

“Fine _,”_  Felicity interrupted, frowning, “but we only talked about it because my mother found the ring.  We didn’t discuss it before you bought it or…” She shook her head, waving a dismissive hand. “…got it out of the family vault or whatever.  We didn’t sit and debate marriage before you put the ring in a soufflé’—”

“Felicity!” She was being ridiculous, and stubborn and… “That was  _different_ —”

“How!?”

How?  Wasn’t that obvious?  How did Felicity not see it?

“ _Because_  at the time, we had been living together  _as if_  we were married for months and now…not forty-eight hours ago,  _before_  we almost died…we agreed  _not_  to run away to Vegas to get married,” Oliver argued and he was rather proud of how coherent that sounded.  Really, it felt like the first complete,  _rational_  thought he’d had since Felicity had asked the captain about his capabilities as an officiant.

And the crinkle in Felicity’s forehead and the pout on her lips told Oliver he had finally gotten through to her.  

“Oh,” was Felicity’s only response.

“Yeah,  _oh_ ,” Oliver finally felt it was safe to set her away from him, without worrying she was going to fall to her knees.  A little distance would help him think clearly.  Hopefully.  “Can we talk about this now?”

“I just…” Felicity muttered, still frowning.  “It’s not very romantic.”

Oliver huffed out an incredulous laugh.  Seriously?  A coo-coo-clock!  That’s where they were.  “Felicity, we’re in  _slipper socks_!”

“What’s wrong with slipper socks?” Felicity wiggled her fuzzy blue toes, truly not seeming to understand why it was a problem that they all looked like they had been rescued from a thermonuclear war and gone through decontamination.

It wasn’t even  _that_  far from the truth.

“Felicity,” Oliver sighed, “can we be  _serious_  for a minute?”

Grunting, Felicity crossed her arms.  “Fine, but, first, I just want to point out, in all seriousness… _one_ : there is nothing wrong with slipper socks.  They are comfortable and slip-resistant, so enough if your sock snobbery.”

That just left Oliver standing there in open mouthed shock.  What the hell?

Then Felicity added, “ _And_ , two: forty-eight hours ago, in that  _exact_   _same_ conversation you just referenced, I seem to remember you saying you would  _love_  to elope.”

Okay, that was true…

“Yes, but—”

“Has that changed?” Felicity challenged.

“Of  _course_ , not,” was his immediate answer.  It was the only answer Oliver had, even though he felt like he was walking into a trap by saying it.

Though if the trap was marriage…was that a bad thing?   Why was Oliver fighting this, when it was all he ever wanted?

“So…why are you arguing with me?”  Yup, Felicity really  _could_  read his mind.  Oliver swore she could.  But, then she started to wring her hands and… _dammit_.  “I’m trying really hard not to feel rejected here.”

Lurching forward, Oliver grabbed Felicity’s fluttering hands and pressed a hard kiss to her lips before  _that_  idea could gain any momentum.   “You are  _not_  being rejected.”  They needed to clear that up right the hell now.  “I want to spend the rest of my life with you—”

“But?” Damn the anxiety in Felicity’s voice.

“No ‘buts’.”  Oliver’s answer was instinctive,  _but_ …

He closed his eyes and shook his head.  He was starting to confuse himself.  “No ‘but’s about wanting to spend my life with you.  The only ‘ _but’_  is about how we start.  I don’t want to mess this up and…Felicity, I  _really_  don’t want you to regret you wedding.”

Felicity searched his eyes, sighing, “Oliver…” Then she broke off, shaking her head, and starting again, “Oliver, I regret a lot of things.  Chief among them all the time I spent  _not_  being married to you.”

Oliver had to close his eyes against the punch of emotion that assaulted him.  “Felicity, I…you are only saying that because you’ve… _we’v_ e been through a lot in the last forty-eight hours.  It makes sense that you want to grab a hold of life with both hands, but we can’t do  _this_  because we almost died.”

“Why not?” Felicity argued and Oliver really wasn’t expecting her to go in  _that_  direction.  “ _Yes_ , we almost died and that made me realize that I want to grab life with both hands, that I’m tired of regretting what I  _didn’t_  do.  Tired of wasting time.  How is that wrong?  Give me one _good_ reason to wait?”

It was probably a full minute before Oliver realized Felicity was waiting for an answer.  And even longer to realize he didn’t have one.  “I…I don’t know.  To make sure that we do it right this time?”

Again, Felicity was making him question… _everything_.  He had  _thought_  that taking it slow was to ensure a better outcome.   _How_  it was supposed to do that…?  That one was  _way_  above Oliver’s pay grade.

“Why?” Felicity asked, pushing ahead with the questions Oliver had no answer to.  “What’s going to change if we take a month…a year…?  _What_  will be different?”

Oliver shook his head, wracking his brain for an answer, because he felt like there was supposed to be one, but he, honestly, couldn’t think of a single thing.  Though, in all fairness, he wasn’t the genius here.

“Do you have  _any_  doubt, what-so-ever, that this isn’t  _right_?” Felicity persisted.  “Any doubt that I’m not the person you want to spend the  _rest_  of your life with—”

“ _No_ ,” Oliver answered fiercely, interrupting her impassioned speech, because he hadn’t doubted that in years.  And it was a relief to have a question he had a clear answer to.  “God, Felicity, you  _know_  I don’t.”

An almost relieved smile spread across Felicity’s face, reminding Oliver, again, how easy it was for him to forget that she could be insecure too.  “Good, because I don’t either.  And that’s not going to change, so…”

This time, Felicity fell to her knees before Oliver realized what she was doing, before he could stop her.

Oliver threw back his head and blew out a long breath.   _Christ_!

Felicity reached out and grabbed his hand limp hand. “Oliver Queen, will you—?”

“ _Jesus_.”  Not sure what else to do, and feeling awkward as fuck standing there, Oliver fell to his knees as well.  

Letting out a huff in protest, Felicity rolled her eyes.  “Why can’t you just let me do this?   Do you have such a problem with me kneeling in front of you?”

Oliver reached out and cupped her face, telling her the only answer that made sense in his muddled head, “Because  _you_ , Felicity Smoak, should never kneel to  _anyone_.”  And,  _that_ , he was certain of.

Felicity’s lip trembled and she sniffled a bit.  “Stop trying to steal my thunder,” she reprimanded, soft and tearful and completely without bite.

“Sorry.” Oliver smiled and it was probably the least genuine thing he had said all day.

Taking Oliver’s hands from her face, Felicity entwinned them with hers.  “Let’s try this again.” Her voice was soft and scratchy. “No more interrupting.”

“No more interrupting,” Oliver agreed, completely unsurprised to find his own voice hoarse as well.  

“Oliver Queen...” Felicity took a deep breath and let out a happy, tearful laugh.  “Would you do me the honor—?”

Oliver let out an incredulous laugh…as if it would be  _him_  doing  _her_  the honor…

Felicity threw him a reprimanding look, so Oliver pressed his lips together and did his best to listen and not interrupt, even if it made him… _insanely_ uncomfortable to hear her say these things about him.

“Would you do me the honor of being my partner in everything, being my husband, my soul mate…?”

There was no preventing Oliver’s own tearful whimper.

“For the rest of our lives, be that days or decades, for better or for worse, for  _good_  this time?”

“Baby, if you think death is going to keep me away…” Oliver shook his head, tears clouding his vision, completely overwhelmed.

Felicity just laughed.  “The correct answer is ‘ _yes’_ , Oliver.”

He hadn’t said that yet?  It felt like he had.  

“Yes.   _God_ , yes!” Oliver pulled on her hands, pulling her closer as he leaned forward to say it again, against her lips this time.  “Yes, today, tomorrow, a year from now—”

Felicity cut him off with a hard kiss.  “You always have to one-up my speeches, don’t you?”

Oliver laughed out loud.  “I couldn’t one-up your speeches if I tried.  Your speeches are perfect.  I  _love_  your speeches.  I love  _you_.”  

And he kissed her, slow and soft and languid, but with adoration and passion.  God, Oliver wanted to kiss her forever.

“Mmm and I love you,” Felicity hummed as she eased out of the kiss slowly, a warm, happy smile across her face.  “So you’ll marry me  _today_?” she asked, her voice was hopeful.

But…

Okay, they needed to take a step back here. Oliver really didn’t think Felicity had thought this one out.  “Do you really think Thea will let us get married in slipper socks?”  

That might have been a deflection.  Oliver wasn’t sure  _he_  wanted to get married in slipper socks, either.  And he couldn’t imagine Felicity not regretting the choice later.

He pulled her closer, so they were pressed together from knees to chest.  Because Oliver wanted to  _be_  closer, he  _always_  wanted to be closer, and not because he wanted to distract Felicity from her impetuous plan.  Much.

Felicity shrugged.  “It’s not Thea’s wedding.” Wrapping her arms around Oliver’s neck, she scooted forward, pushing at his chest until he sat back on his feet and she could climb onto his lap, which was…pretty damn good actually.  “Or  _her_  marriage.  And right now, I’m much more interested in the marriage than the wedding.”

And that just filled Oliver…that just filled him.  Marriage.   _God_ , he wanted that.

“Me too,” he whispered, taking the opportunity to kiss Felicity’s adorable lower lip.  It  _was_  right there, so why wouldn’t he.  After a moment, he pulled back and tried to refocus on the matter at hand. “But this is still a really important moment for us and I want you… _us_  to look back on it and smile.”

But while Oliver was utterly serious, Felicity was all sass and playfulness.  “Slipper socks won’t make you smile?”

Well, Oliver couldn’t not smile  _now_ , imagining it, even as he protested, “I want it to be  _perfect_  for you.”

Felicity just sighed, losing a little of that lightness.  “Oliver, we did the fancy ballgown and tux, the chuppah and… _well_ , other than, perhaps, your vows the entire thing turns my stomach.  Those aren’t exactly happy memories.”

It felt like a blow to the gut.   _Fuck_.  Oliver had no idea that had…it  _still_  upset her?  The Cupid thing?

Shit, anything else he had _completely_ fucked up and forgot about?  “I’m sorry.  I…I shouldn’t have even  _suggested_  that fake wedding.” Oliver wouldn’t have if in his deluded mind he hadn’t thought it would help him win Felicity back.

Felicity shrugged, but that happy light in her eyes had been extinguished.  Double fuck.  That was the  _last_  thing that Oliver had wanted.

“We caught Carrie, that’s all that matters.”

Except it really, really wasn’t.  

“ _You_  matter,” Oliver insisted and he really didn’t think he could express the depth of his regret on this one.  “I should have found another way.  I—”

Felicity stopped him with a thumb to his lips.  “I, really, don’t want to talk about that day.  It’s over.   _Long_  over.  And this is a new day, a new relationship, a new engagement…wow, we just got engaged.   _Again_.”  Her face brightened again, something like awe in her voice.

And, yeah.   _Wow_.

Oliver could second that.  And third and fourth it.

They were engaged.  Oliver just let that settle into him.  

“I can hardly believe it,” and Oliver  _knew_  that it was awe in  _his_  voice.

“Believe it.” Felicity gave Oliver another hard kiss and another bright smile.  “Hey,” her eyes lit up even more, this time as if in inspiration, “we don’t have to wear this.  I’ll borrow something from Lyla and you can wear the Green Arrow Suit.”  She looked delighted by the idea, but…

No.  Just… _no_.

“Felicity, I’m not getting married in the suit.” Oliver was horrified by the idea.  Like deep in his bones, horrified.

Immediately, that lower lip popped out in a pout and it was something he found near impossible to resist.  “But you look so  _good_.”  Felicity’s eyes twinkled and Oliver couldn’t say that the promise in her voice didn’t do something to him.  But, still…

“Felicity…” Oliver hoped it didn’t sound like he was whining.  “I’d like a picture that we will be able to show our kids one day.  One that we can hang on the wall.”

There was a momentary frown, before Felicity suggested with a grin, “We can hang it in the Bunker.”

Oliver groaned.   _Fine_.  He was going to have to say it.  “Felicity, I’ve  _killed people_  in that suit.”

_That_  wiped the smile off her face, which was so  _not_  what Oliver had wanted, but he hadn’t seen any other choice.  

“Well, these ARGUS outfits aren’t really  _that_  bad,” Felicity muttered looking down at the blue fashion nightmares, chewing on her lower lip.

Shaking his head…Oliver just couldn’t figure out why Felicity was so stuck on doing this _today_.  “Honey…what’s the rush?”

Felicity’s pouty lip poked out.   _Again_.  And, this time, Oliver gave in to the urge to press a light kiss to it.

When Oliver met her eyes again, Felicity confessed, “I dunno.  I just…I feel like we’ve lost so much time.  I don’t want to waste any more planning  _another_  wedding.  I just want to be married.  I want to step back into Star City, with you as my husband, and start our lives.   _Together_.”

It was a very convincing argument.  Because _, wow_ , that sounded good.  

But Oliver still didn’t want to give Felicity some half-ass wedding.  She deserved so much more.   “That doesn’t mean we have to get married in ARGUS sweats.   _Today_.  We can take a few days…a week maybe…to arrange things.  And  _still_  be married when we go back home.”

And,  _finally_ , Oliver felt a huge burst of excitement.  They could be married when they got home.  Step off the plane as Mr. &Mrs. 

_God_ , that sounded so good.  There were so many options.  They were on a ship, they could go anywhere, and all the people he really  _needed_  at the wedding were already here.  Except, maybe, Donna, and even that could be fixed.

But, really, there were so many ways to have a quick, but  _beautiful_  wedding, before they went home.

Yet, for some reason, Felicity seemed disappointed.  “I guess not.”

It was simultaneously heartwarming and heart- _wrenching_  that Felicity had her heart set on it being  _today_ , but it only gave Oliver more incentive to find something that would be…just _perfect_ for her.  That would make her happy…excited even, to wait.  For a few days anyway.

“So, you don’t want formal dress and a wedding hall.  What  _would_  make you happy?” Oliver asked gently, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.  He was determined to figure it out and her the dream.

“To be married,” Felicity responded way too quickly and way too...unhappily.

Oliver gave her a soft (indulgent, he was sure) smile.  “How about this?  Close your eyes,” he whispered, running a finger over her eyebrows.

“ _Oliver_ …” It was both a protest and a whine, but he was going to bring the light and enthusiasm back to Felicity’s eyes, so help him God.

“Shhh.  Indulge me.” Oliver pressed a kiss to the tip of Felicity’s nose, teasing, “I let you kneel, remember?”

That, at least, earned Oliver a soft chuckle.  “I don’t know if that counts since you knelt too.”

True, but that wasn’t the point.  “Close your eyes,” Oliver insisted, again, softly.

Felicity sighed, but she finally did as he asked.  Oliver rubbed his thumbs over her eyelids, pressing a kiss to each of them.  Just because.  

“Now, tell me how you see us getting married,” Oliver whispered.

And, in that moment, Oliver knew, whatever Felicity wanted, he would  _make_  it happen.  Slipper socks or a red ballgown on the top of the Eiffel Tower…

Oliver was going to give his beautiful bride anything and  _everything_  her heart desired.   

 

_Revised 1/23/2018_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> I hope the rewind was worth it and didn’t slow down the chapter too much.  I, actually, paired it way back (you can thank  **Imusuallyobsessed** for that one), but I couldn’t bear to get rid of it completely (for the baby Sara nod alone).
> 
> For those who don’t follow me on Tumblr or Twitter, I did, in a manic burst of inspiration, finish the first draft of this story in long-hand this week.  It’s very exciting, though six of those chapters still need to be typed up.  I’m now doing a total of four drafts, since the lovely  **Ireland1733**  took over the last draft :-*).
> 
> The only thing I can  _promise_  and, I do  _solemnly swear_ , that I WILL not start any new fics (including one-shots) until DLMG is done and I have at least ten new chapters of both AKOI and TSTS under my belt.  
> 
> Again, I really want to thank everyone for all the feed-back.  The muse has been on fire lately.  I’ve been so busy writing that I haven’t gotten to comment responses, but I will.  I hope you guys will keep it coming.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> (Emmilynestill on Tumblr and Twitter)
> 
>   
>    
> 


	14. The Value of (Restorative) Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote this, I found out that Felicity (this Felicity anyway) wasn’t quite over the whole Cupid/fake wedding fiasco. Sorry, for the angsty beginning. It’s an emotional chapter, so if you often need Kleenex for my stories, grab a box. Oh and it might get a little “E” rated later. ;-)

Felicity wasn’t sure she liked this.

They had just gotten engaged (well,  _re_ engaged, actually).  Felicity had proposed (which was really only fair.  It  _was_  her turn) and Oliver had accepted.  

They were safe.  Their friends and family were safe.  Both a rarity in their lives.  

Shouldn’t this be all ‘I love you’s and sweet kisses and, God,  _engagement sex_.  Wouldn’t  _that_  be lovely?

Tender, loving,  _hot_ …engagement sex.

That was all Felicity wanted.  Was it  _really_  too much to ask for?

Apparently so, because what Felicity kept getting was  _conversation_.  Long, involved,  _initiated by Oliver_  conversation, which was weird in of itself, but would be fine, except it kept getting all… _angsty_.

But, then again, who would have guessed that the idea of a  _wedding_ , not the marriage, that she had no problem with, but the wedding itself, would be so… _upsetting_.  Certainly not Felicity.  A ceremony where they pledged their love to each other followed by a party.  What was not to love?

So why did it give her a pit in her stomach and a sour taste in her mouth?

“Close your eyes,” Oliver whispered, with the clear implication that he wanted to keep talking about the wedding, and…

But…but…Felicity didn’t wanna.

What about the  _engagement sex_?

Why was Oliver making her do this?  The last thing Felicity wanted to do was close her eyes.   _Unless_  it was in the middle of that _engagement sex_ that she really, well, deserved.  

Felicity _and_  Oliver deserved epically fabulous engagement sex, Goddamn it!

But, instead of celebrating their love, like normally people, Oliver wanted her to  _think_.  And  _talk_.  Communicate.  Which would have been awesome like…a year and a half ago, but now…

Now, all Felicity’s stupid,  _stupid_  brain seemed to be fixated on was remembering their last wedding.  The fake one.  The day she had tried _so_  hard to forget.  Which was ironic, since it seemed like the whole damn day liked to replay in her mind on repeat.  In excruciating detail.

It had been one of the worst days (and nights) of Felicity’s life.  And that was a category that had some fraking  _fierce_  competition.  

But Oliver was insistent that she close her damn eyes.  And to be fair, he wasn’t aware of the way Felicity’s brain was doing its best to ruin their moment.  He was just trying to figure out a way to give her the wedding he thought she deserved.

Except, all Felicity wanted was Oliver to listen, and _believe_ her, when she said she just wanted it  _over_.

Oh God, that sounded horrible.  

What Felicity  _meant_  was she wanted the _wedding_ to be over, so they could get onto the _marriage_ part.

Okay.  Nope, that didn’t sound much better.

Maybe, Felicity needed to try it Oliver’s way.  Besides, the fingers stroking her brow  _were_  soothing, along with his voice and the way, straddling his lap as she was, their bodies were pressed so closely together that she could feel his heartbeat…

Alright.  Maybe, Felicity could do this.  She just needed to trust in Oliver.

Felicity closed her eyes and tried to focus every one of her senses on Oliver.  To concentrate on the present.  The future.  Anything  _but_  the past.  The past was past and she wanted to leave it there.

“Now, tell me how you see us getting married,” Oliver whispered.

Crap.

Felicity pressed her lips together to keep from frowning as the image of her and Oliver standing under the chuppah,  _again_ , assailed her.  Fraking hell.  

That damn chuppah, beautiful and lovingly designed (by her mother, as a matter of fact.  But Felicity had agreed to it, had… _classed_  it up a bit.  Removed the excess… _excess_ ).  And there was Oliver, standing there under it, with hearts in his eyes, looking more perfect than any man had a right to, better than the models in any of the four  _dozen_  bridal magazines Donna and Curtis had accumulated.

And Felicity in her gorgeous dress, the one that hadn’t undergone that last fitting, so it hung on her frame (especially, since she hadn’t eaten well since the break-up and had lost weight).  And that just seemed to emphasize the… _wrongness_  of the entire situation.

Felicity had felt nauseous from the moment she had pulled the dress on. Uncomfortable in her own skin.  The whole thing had been a farce…no,  _worse_ than a farce.  It felt like a horror film.  

All her hopes and dreams turned upside down, distorted.  Like the world was mocking her for thinking she could have something so good, so perfect.  Burying the knife deep and twisting it for maximum painfulness.

And then there was Oliver…standing there saying the most beautiful things.   Felicity had had no doubt then, as she had no doubt now, that he had meant every word, but…

It had felt so  _manipulative_ , like he was trying to force something on her and it hurt  _so badly_  and all Felicity had been able to think was that it was too little, too late, and that looking into Oliver’s beautiful,  _sad_  eyes was the most excruciating thing and she just  _couldn’t_  keep doing it day after day—

“Hey…hey…what’s wrong?” Oliver asked, pulling Felicity back from her ugly memories.  His tone changed, from hopeful and cajoling to concerned and anxious.

_Great_.

Felicity blinked open her eyes and watched as Oliver caught a tear on his thumb.  Fraking hell.  She hadn’t even realized she was crying.  And, now, she had completely ruined their beautiful moment.

Swallowing around a her throat, Felicity managed an, “I’m sorry.”  Though, it came out as little more than a croak.

“No…you don’t have to…” Oliver’s voice was scratchy too and that pained look was back in his eyes.  The one that was so hard to look at.  It was everything Felicity did  _not_  want for this moment.  “Is this still about the Cupid…?”

Felicity’s breath hissed and she turned her face away, fighting a fresh wave of tears.  Could they just… _stop_  talking about it?

“I didn’t realize…” Oliver murmured his voice heavy with regret. “I…I didn’t  _know_  that that fake wedding had hurt you  _so much_.”

Felicity laughed, a bitter, almost hysterical sound.  “I would have thought that the fact that afterwards I said the most horrible things I have  _ever_  said to you and then didn’t speak to you for a month would have broadcasted that message loud and clear.”

The laugh Oliver gave, though quieter, was just as hard to hear, because it was full of self-hatred.  “I’ve always been slow on the uptake.”

_God_. “Oliver, that’s not—”

“Plus, it wasn’t like everything you said that night hadn’t been what I’ve been telling myself for years—”

Which was  _exactly_  why Felicity felt so terrible for saying it.  “ _Oliver_!” she tried to cut him off before he got a good monologue started. “Nothing I said was true.”

Oliver gave her a sad smile, the one that Felicity just  _despised_.  Because she could see the self-loathing behind it.  “It’s okay.  I know you meant every word,” he murmured and, somehow, it didn’t even come out accusing.  Just accepting.

Felicity swallowed the lump in her throat.  No use fighting the tears now.  “Oh, I _meant_ them.  They just weren’t  _true_.”  

Which, of  _course_ , was confusing and Oliver’s face reflected that.  He had no idea what Felicity was trying to say.  How could he?

“My head was all screwed up.  I was in so much pain.  I don’t know  _what_  I was thinking,” Felicity tried to explain, because as much as she didn’t want to talk about it, she had no choice now.  “So, yeah, I  _believed_  what I was saying, but that was because I was in an awful place, mentally.  It made me think all sorts of things that were just… _wrong_.”

And, somehow, Felicity’s words seemed to bring Oliver even closer to tears.  “I’m so sorry.  I never should have put you in that position.”

Wonderful.  Even time she opened her mouth it got worse.  They sank deeper into the past.  Felicity shook her head.  “We had to.  Cupid—”

“We’re being honest, remember,” Oliver insisted, his thumb stroking her cheek.  “Let’s not pretend that I didn’t  _jump_  at the chance to go through with the wedding.  I saw it as way to win you back.”

Felicity laughed and it wasn’t a pretty sound.  She had  _known_  that and the knowledge had just pushed her further away, because of the… _dishonesty_  of the whole thing.

Oliver scrunched up his face and sighed.  “I fucked up.”

Okay, maybe it nice to hear he say that.  Oliver  _did_  fuck up.  Maybe, Felicity had needed to hear him say that.

When Felicity chuckled this time, it was less ugly and more…she didn’t know…understanding, maybe.  She ran her fingers down Oliver’s face, stroking her nails through his beard.  It was strangely soothing.  

_God_ , she loved this man, flaws and all.  

“We both have,” Felicity admitted, because it was true.  “But we are trying and changing and that’s what really matters.” 

Oliver turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm.  “You really can’t compare your mistakes to mine.  Mine are in whole different league.”  Felicity opened her mouth, but Oliver pressed a kiss to her lips to stop her.  “No, don’t disagree.  You know it’s true.  I appreciate that you want to take equal blame, but that’s not fair.”

“Well, actually, I was only trying to take  _some_  of the blame.  Not  _equal_  blame,” Felicity teased, smiling as she said it.  The instinct to use humor to lighten things was creeping.

But, then, Felicity, realized that…no, it wasn’t just that.  The tightness she had felt in her chest since they had started talking about weddings had eased, allowing the humor to flow, and it seemed to allow Oliver to smile too.  And, this time, it reached his eyes.

That alone, made Felicity so relieved she could cry.   Oliver wiped her cheek and she  _really_  hoped it would be for the last time.

“Well,  _my_  only excuse,” Oliver told her, his voice hoarse, “is that I was pretty desperate to win you back.   _And_  that I’m a  _moron_.”

Felicity let out a bark of laughter, which quickly turned almost giddy, because _that_ wasn’t Oliver hating on himself, it was just him admitting his mistake.  He was getting pretty good at it, actually, and it was an excellent sign for their future.  

Still, Felicity felt the need to tease, “Hey, that’s my future husband you’re insulting there.”  She was starting feel like herself again.  Thank  _goodness_.

Oliver’s smile spread, until it seemed to take over his entire face.  It was a smile she so rarely saw and…then it hit her, a wave of emotion…of love and relief and happiness and hope.  So strong that Felicity was dizzy with it.  

“I can’t fucking wait,” Oliver breathed and Felicity might have laughed except his lips were moving towards hers and she decided, instead, to meet him half-way with a hard, almost desperate kiss.

Oliver held her to him and swept her tear-dampened hair free of where it tangled in her glasses.  Felicity cupped the sides of his face and…they kissed until they were breathless.  Until all those painful thoughts and memories were where they were supposed to be. In the past.  A distant memory that had lost it’s sting, because how could anything that have led them to  _here_ , to  _this_  place be that bad.

Felicity had been wrong.  So wrong.  They  _had_  needed to talk about it.  It was the only way to truly move past it.

When the kiss finally ended, Oliver was short of breath.  He laid his forehead against hers and murmured, “Okay, let’s try this again.  I’m going to give you a wedding so perfect that you won’t even remember that ridiculous farce.”

Ugh.   _Really_?  Oliver was  _still_  stuck on this ‘perfect wedding’ thing?  Why couldn’t they just have a quickie ceremony and get on with their lives?

Felicity was glad Oliver had forced the issue and they had cleared the air about that so-called-wedding, but...

Shaking her head, Felicity tried to explain this, “Oliver, I…”

But, God, she  _really_  didn’t want to disappoint him, especially when all Oliver wanted was to please her.  Or to dampen his enthusiasm.  But…Felicity didn’t even think what he wanted was possible.  Just the idea of a wedding ‘so perfect’ was…the opposite of what she wanted.   “I  _really_  don’t want a big fancy wedding.”

How did Felicity make him understand that without crushing  _his_  dreams?

But Oliver didn’t look disappointed, he just looked…far from convinced.  Of course, a _Queen_ couldn’t comprehend the concept of a small wedding.  The one they had planned last spring was  _supposed to be_  simple.  Yeah, right.

Tilting his head, Oliver pressed, “Are you  _sure_ —?”

So,  _so_  sure.  This was probably the surest she had ever been in _all_ of their wedding planning chaos.   

“Oliver, I don’t think I  _ever_  wanted that,” Felicity blurted out.  And, crap, she really hadn’t meant to admit that out loud.  She had barely admitted it to herself.

And, of  _course_ , Oliver’s face fell.  “You seemed excited about our wedding,” He murmured, his forehead creased, all adorably sad and confused.  God  _dammit_!  This was what she was trying to avoid.

“I  _was_ ,” Felicity rushed to reassure.  How to explain this?  “But, mostly, I was just excited to marry you.  Sure, I love a fantastic dress and great shoes, throw in friends and some wine and…it’s great. Exciting.  But I never really cared about the  _traditional_ …” Her hands flapped uselessly as she tried to put her feelings into words.  It didn’t feel like she was doing a very good job.  “I’m not sure any of it really felt like  _me_.  Like  _us_.  Honestly, I think I was just carried along in the tide.  It was more my mother’s vision then mine.”

This time, Oliver looked was skeptical.  “ _That_  was your mother’s vision?”

Felicity almost laughed.  “Well,  _obviously_ , I vetoed the golden candelabras and the blow-up guitars and… _a million_  other things.”  Now, that Felicity thought about it…  “I think I was so busy trying to control my mother’s vision, to make it less _Vegas_ and more _Queen_ , that I don’t think I ever really thought about what  _I_  wanted.”

And, wow, it was amazing how relieved Felicity felt saying that.  Not because she was telling Oliver, but because she was finally realizing herself what had happened.  Because that was  _exactly_  it.  She had finally pinpointed what had happened.  

The wedding planning last year, in the middle of her paralysis and the mess at Palmer Tech and Damian Darhk…it had been more damage control than a labor of love.  She had let her mother do so much largely because she didn’t have the time or energy to do it herself.  Her input became mostly about… _editing_.  

And honestly, at the time, editing her mother’s vision had been so much easier than coming up with her own.  Much more doable.  And much like now, Felicity had been much more interested in the  _being_  married than the wedding.

A wrinkle appeared between Oliver eyebrows, he really did seem to be having trouble with this and Felicity couldn’t blame him, it wasn’t like she had even hinted at it before.  It seemed that he wasn’t the only one with trouble being open with their feelings.  And that was back when things had (supposedly) been going _well_ between them.  

Though, maybe, they hadn’t been so good after all.  Felicity had been on a course to an emotional implosion since she had gotten shot.  She’d started locking up her feelings tight as soon as she woke up with non-working legs.  There had been a ton of things she’d kept from Oliver after that.  Her hallucinations, her father (for days, anyway), and… _this_ , apparently.  She hadn’t even realized she was doing it at the time.

“Well, when you were a little girl, what kind of wedding did you imagine?” Oliver asked, focusing on the wedding planning part and not the…she kept things from him part.  Felicity almost wished he’d concentrate on the later.

But the question was so genuine and Oliver’s voice so sweet that Felicity did her very best not to roll her eyes.  It wasn’t easy.  “I didn’t.  You know, not  _every_  little girl’s fondest wish is to get married.”

Oliver, however, did roll _his_ eyes.  “I  _know_  that, but…that doesn’t mean you didn’t imagine…”

Felicity shook her head.  “No, I  _never_  did.”  And that was the truth.  She had no wedding dress sketches in her old notebooks, just math equations.  

“Really?”  Again, Oliver seemed to be having an exceptionally hard time with this.  Wow, the girls in his life must have been wedding  _obsessed_ , but, then again, the unlimited Queen resources did mean…well, no limits.

That hadn’t been reality of Felicity’s childhood. “Having your father leave when you’re seven and being raised by an overwhelmed single mother really sours a girl to marriage.”

Oliver deflated then, his understanding eyes searching hers.  Finally, he asked, “What  _did_  little Felicity Smoak dream of after her father left?”

And… _that_ really wasn’t a question Felicity was prepared for.  Oh, God, what _had_ she dreamed about?  Or maybe, what hadn’t she fantasized about was a better question.  Imagination was a lonely child’s best friend.

“Space travel?” Felicity answered with the first thing she could think of.  Before she could spend too much time thinking about it.  She didn’t know if she wanted to dwell on this.  Did weddings always open up so many old wounds?

A delighted smile formed over Oliver’s face, so,  _clearly,_  he wasn’t aware that these were all open, gaping wounds.  “You wanted to be an astronaut?”

It was cool that Oliver thought her fantasies were so reality based.  Her daydreams involved something more like a female Captain Picard or flying an x-wing.  “Sorta kinda.”

“Why didn’t you apply to NASA?  I’m sure they would have snatched you up.”  

There was something about the absolute surety and pride in Oliver’s face that was…well, it was addictive. And it did make Felicity feel better.  Instantly.

Leaning her elbows on his shoulders, Felicity felt herself relax.  Maybe, this conversation wasn’t really _so_ bad.  Unless, Oliver decided to try to give her a space wedding.

Oooo…a space wedding….

Okay.  Stop.  Reality time.  “Well, by the time I reached middle school I’d moved on to being the first female Steve Jobs.”  At that point, the day dreams were more plans.  Not that being Steve Jobs was remotely realistic.

“So, what’s stopping you?” Oliver asked and…

Wow,  _that_  question was a kick in the gut.  Out of left field.  Felicity hadn’t even seen that one coming.  But…maybe, she should have.  And with the complete confidence in her that reflected in Oliver’s eyes…

What  _was_  stopping her?

He and William really  _were_  so much alike.  Felicity, felt like she was having her second ‘ah ha’ moment of the afternoon.  And the  _first_ Queen that had instigated her ‘ah ha’ had gotten her engaged to the love of her life so…

“Don’t know.  I’ll have to get on that.” Felicity pressed a kiss to Oliver’s lips, because they were right there and so enticing and she was starting to feel really  _good_.  Also, maybe, she still had a chance at her engagement sex.  Then everything  _would_  be perfect. “As soon as we figure out this pesky wedding thing.”  

As soon as friggen possible.  Which, unfortunately, threw a space theme out the window.  The most important thing, now, was to figure out a way to get married  _before_  going back to Star City that was acceptable to Oliver (which, unfortunately, meant no slipper socks or Green Arrow suit).  

Then they needed to have engagement sex.  

After that, they could go home and Felicity could start her own company and become bigger than Steve Jobs.  Yup.  Sounded like a plan.  Done and done.

One more kiss (just because) and Felicity asked, “So what do  _you_  want in a wedding?”

Because this sure as hell was not all on Felicity.  It was Oliver’s wedding too and if  _he_  knew what he wanted they could just do that (as long as it was quick and small and easily accomplished).

Still, when Oliver opened his mouth, Felicity knew what he was going to say before a single word left his mouth.

 “And don’t say ‘ _me’_ ,” Felicity clarified, holding up her hand to stop him from jumping on that train.  “If that didn’t fly when I said it, it’s not gonna fly for you either.  When you close  _your_  eyes, what do  _you_  see?”

Oliver gave her a slightly disgruntled look (see,  _ha_ , wasn’t as easy as it sounded), before saying, “I see  _you_ , looking your usual gorgeous self, in a dress you love.  I see Thea, John… _William_ …” He blew out a breath, shaking his head.  “That’s more than I could have ever hoped for.  Everything else is gravy.”

Well, that was good.  It worked nicely with Felicity’s plan of ‘quick and small and easily accomplished.’  All they really needed was a dress and it was show time.

But then, Oliver paused and added, “Except I really want a photographer.  It doesn’t have to be a professional.  I just want pictures.”

Okay…harder.  Though, they were basically on a floating city.   _Someone_ here had to be capable of taking pictures if it meant so much to Oliver.

And, clearly, it did since it was the second time he brought it up.  Felicity felt a sudden, rush of affection.  “I can’t believe how much you love your photos.  You’re such a sap,” she teased, knowing Oliver knew how much she adored this secret, softer side of him.

Oliver gave her an almost bashful shrug.  “Felicity, it’s just that…sometimes… _sometimes,_  it’s hard to even remember it’s possible to be happy.  It’s important to capture the moments when we are.”

Felicity swallowed around the brand-new lump that formed in her throat.  “You’re right, pictures are important,” she rasped.  “Though, that doesn’t help us figure out the whole… _wedding thing_.”

The damn  _wedding_  thing.  Just saying it made Felicity feel overwhelmed, heavy.  She didn’t want to wait and plan.  She just wanted to  _do it_.  Slipper socks be damned.  But that certainly wasn’t picture perfect Oliver wanted.

Letting it out, Oliver leaned in and gave her a small smile, pressing pressed another long kiss to her lips.   When he pulled back, _he_  looked lighter, at least.  Lifting her glasses from her nose, he carefully folded them to the side.

Then, _again_ , Oliver rested his forehead against Felicity’s and said, “Let’s try this again.  Close your eyes.”

Noooo… _no more_ …

“ _Oliver_ —”

“Trust me.”  And _that_ tone and _those_ words were impossible to resist.  “We’ll try it a little differently this time.”

_Fine_.  Anything to get this over with and move on to the sex part.  Oliver had better make this torture worth her while.  Especially since, Felicity really didn’t know how this was going to help.

Felicity closed her eyes (without her glasses everything was blurry anyway).

“Okay, now…try to imagine, say…stopping at Vegas on the way home and getting married there…”

That was something Felicity could imagine easily.   _Unfortunately_.  She had plenty of images… _memories_ to draw from.  Flashing lights, Elvis impersonators, drunken brides and obnoxious grooms—

“Guess not,” Oliver drawled with a chuckle.

Felicity’s eyes popped open as Oliver pressed a kiss to her scrunched-up nose, which was when she realized that her face must have contorted in distaste.

Don’t get her wrong, at  _this point_ , a Vegas wedding, just to get it  _done_ , wasn’t out of the question.  But it wasn’t something she had ever considered  _romantic_.  Plus, if Oliver was asking for the (so called) ‘perfect’ wedding…

“I guess, I don’t really see Vegas as very… _us_ ,” Felicity confessed.  Vegas was the old Ollie and… _her_   _mother_.  But times a  _thousand_.  “The only thing for me there is my mom and while I would love for her to be at our wedding there…”

Felicity felt a wave a guilt.  Maybe stopping at Vegas  _was_  a good idea.  She’d shut her mom out enough this last year.  Wasn’t compromising on her wedding only fair if her mom could be there?  Wasn’t  _that_  what was important?  Being with family?

“So, no Vegas,” Oliver said, a definitive note to his voice.   And before Felicity could argue and reopen the possibility, he repeated, “Close your eyes, again.”

This time Felicity’s sigh was more a grunt of frustration.

“Come on, it’s working,” Oliver argued, but…

Was it?  Was it,  _really_?  Felicity couldn’t say she agreed, but she indulged him.   _Again_.  

“Okay, now I want you to imagine us exchanging vows in our blue ARGUS t-shirts and slipper socks.”

An involuntary laugh popped out as the image appeared in Felicity’s mind.  Especially when she added the slipper clad team,  _plus_  Nyssa and Slade.  It really was a funny image.  It wasn’t _bad,_ though.  “Well, the blue does do great things for your eyes.”

“Right back at you,” Oliver teased, kissing her brow.  “But…is that a happy laugh or an…that’s absurd laugh?”

_Well_ , if she was being honest… “Probably more the later,” Felicity confessed, rather reluctantly, because she was  _far_  from ruling this one out, either.  So very far.

“One more time then, eyes closed.” And this time, Felicity followed the instructions easily, her arms winding around Oliver’s neck as he stroked her back.  She was holding him to this last time thing, though.

As soon as her eyes fell closed, Oliver pressed a kiss to each eyelid in turn.  Was that supposed to magically make her see the perfect wedding?  Oliver was such a sap Felicity wouldn’t be surprised if he thought so.

“So, where  _do_  you see us?” Oliver insisted.

Double  _ugh_.  Oliver couldn’t have stuck with the ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions?  But it was hard to fight him when he was being a sweetheart and,  _thankfully_ , Felicity no longer saw last year’s disaster as soon as she shut her eyes, so…

Felicity tried.  She  _tried_  to relax and focus on Oliver and how much she loved him, how much she felt his love for her and…to let the images come.  Relaxation techniques were never her strong suit, but she tried.  

“I see…”  What  _did_  she see?

Felicity could see Oliver smiling at her.  With that big adoring smile that made her feel like she could walk on water.  That was nice.  And she saw…blue sky behind him.  She could almost feel a breeze….

“I…outside, maybe?”  

Most of Felicity’s  _outside_  memories with Oliver were good ones…really, good ones.  As long as they stayed away from dark alleys (which shouldn’t be hard).  And they’d spent so much of their time away outdoor in the sunshine.

“Okay,” Oliver sounded a little surprised, but pleased.  That was good.  Encouraging.  “What else?”

Felicity resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him.  Outside wasn’t enough for him?  

“Maybe…at sunset?”

She smiled as the blue faded in her mind’s eye and became streaked with color.  Then Felicity saw them standing in front of a sky painted with red and oranges and pinks, blue and purple.  She had always loved color.  It made her feel alive.  

“Sunset?” The delight in Oliver’s voice made it feel even more right.  Yes, this was  _right_.

She didn’t open her eyes, though, not yet.  Leaning into Oliver more, Felicity felt her muscles unwind as she let her mind wander, finally, confident it wouldn’t get lost in a dark place and she said, “Since we live so much of our lives at night, I think our new beginning should start at sunset.”

Oliver hummed, his lips pressing to hers as he agreed, “Definitely sunset.  What else?”

The images were coming more easily now.  Felicity saw them holding hands, the breeze catching her white dress and her hair, but she felt no concern that either would be messed up, they were both loose and free and comfortable.  And Oliver wasn’t in a stuffy Oliver Queen tux, he was in soft colors, relaxed and free.

“Hon?” Oliver prompted, his tone soft and amused.

Humming, Felicity sighed, but a happy sigh this time.  “I think I’d like a breeze.”  Then she laughed at her own silliness.  “Do you think you can conger a breeze for me?”

Oliver chuckled, “Well…I think if we were married on or by the ocean I think it would be likely,” he whispered in her ear and Felicity shivered.  She could almost smell the ocean as he said it.

Of course, that  _could_  be because they were on a ship, that was technically floating  _on_  the ocean.

“Mmm… _the ocean_.”  Felicity could see that.  If one forgot that stupid hell island, all the times they had spent by the ocean were wonderful, from their first day as a couple driving along the coast… _into the sunset_.  

Oh, yes.  It had to be the sunset.  Could anything be more perfect?

She saw them standing on the beach…barefoot, maybe.  Felicity loved her heels, but barefoot  _would_  solve their slipper socks problem.  “The sunset would be especially beautiful over the ocean.”

She opened her eyes to see Oliver beaming at her and,  _damn_ , if it didn’t make her heart skip a beat.  “Well…we’re in the Pacific Ocean.  Not too far from Bali….”

Felicity’s mouth fell open at Oliver’s words, her eyes filling.  She was… _overwhelmed_.  The images that conquered were…just beautiful.   _Overwhelmingly_  beautiful.  “I think…I think that could work,” she managed to force out of her clogged throat.    

Those words were far from adequate, however.  Actually, as it turned out, Felicity didn’t really have  _any_  words.  She surged into him, before she could stop to think about it, her lips against Oliver’s, passionate, even desperate, as she sucked on his lips and, this time, she really wasn’t going to be satisfied until her let her in.

Oliver opened to her willingly, but with a hesitance that showed he was surprised at the vehemence of her kiss.  But that was fine.  Felicity enjoyed surprising him.  She swept her tongue into his mouth and pressed her breasts tightly against his chest, feeling them pebble and drag against the soft cotton of their matching t-shirts.

Felicity ground her hips down, seeking Oliver’s hardness, feeling him lengthen against her thigh as he moaned into her mouth, his fingers digging into her back.

When Oliver dragged his lips away, panting, she couldn’t say that she was pleased.  Especially, when he said, “ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …don’t you think we should tell the others what we have planned?”

No.  

Actually,  _no_ , she didn’t.  

As much as Felicity loved and cared for all of them.  And as adorable and heartwarming their investment in her and Oliver’s wedding was…

Felicity was _nowhere_   _near_  ready to give up her time alone with Oliver.  She even didn’t care if that was selfish.

“Oliver, we’re engaged,” Felicity reminded him.

He gave her that slow dopey, lovesick smile…yup, that was the one Felicity had imagined staring up at as they exchanged vows.

“Yeah.  Yeah, we are.”  Oliver leaned forward that fraction of an inch that was between them to to give her a soft, sweet kiss.  “I love you.”

Now,  _this_  was more like it.  This was what the minutes after an engagement were supposed to be like.   _Finally_.

“I love you, too,” Felicity murmured, pretty sure she looked just as dopey and lovesick.  Which was just fine with her.

Oliver completed the moment with a soft, sentimental sigh.  “Thank you.”

Okay,  _that_  Felicity hadn’t been expecting.  “For what?”

Shrugging, Oliver shook his head.  “For taking the leap, I guess.”

Oliver really needed to stop making her cry.  The crying was supposed to be over.  “Well, you are  _very_  welcome.” Then Felicity cupped his cheeks and drew his lips back to hers.

But Felicit had barely gotten going when she felt Oliver pull back.  _Again_.  

Meh.

She knew what he was going to say here, too.  Felicity just  _knew_  Oliver was going to start in again on going out and talking to the others and planning with Lyla and…blah blah blah….

Why did Felicity have to fall in love with such an infuriating man?

Though,  _maybe_ , Felicity needed to stop expecting him to read her mind and start _communicating_ what she wanted.  Because, really, was there even the smallest chance Oliver wouldn’t give it to her once she did?

So, before he could even start his argument, Felicity placed her fingers to his lips and said, “Oliver, do you remember the first time we got engaged?”

Oliver’s breath hissed and Felicity cursed herself for beginning this way.   _Clearly_ , he was thinking about the wrong parts of the night.

“ _No_ , don’t think about after.   _Or_  the attack.  I mean the proposal.  Your _beautiful_ proposal.”  Felicity felt a wave of love and affection just thinking about it.  “It was a perfect moment and Damian Darhk can’t take that from us.”

Eyes immediately softening, Oliver murmured, “No.  No, he can’t.”

She was almost surprised how quickly Oliver had turned that brood wagon around.  Maybe, Felicity was finally getting through.  She pressed another quick kiss to his unfairly plump lips as she continued, “But you know what Darhk  _did_  take?  And it still pisses me off.”  She forced a smile and flicked her hand, willfully inserting, “Well, besides the six months I spent in that damn chair?”  

“Besides that,” Oliver repeated in a murmur.  He was smiling, but Felicity could see the sadness lingering in his eyes.

Felicity really hoped her next words would get rid of it entirely.  She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “ _Engagement sex._ ”  

Because, come on?  Hadn’t Felicity waited long enough?

Oliver burst out with a full belly laugh that just… _filled_  her.  With warmth and happiness and so much more.

And even though making him laugh was  _exactly_  her intention, Felicity pouted, arguing, “I’m serious.  I had plans.”

“Oh, I  _bet_  you did,” Oliver drawled, his eyes bright and very interested.  His hands settled on her hips.  

_Much_  better.

“And not just  _that_ …” Felicity put on her best sultry voice, gaining confidence as she spoke.  “Ever since I put on that red dress…”

Oliver’s breath caught.  “The one with the  _zippers_?” He said it so reverently, Felicity couldn’t help but chuckle.

“The one with the zippers,” Felicity repeated, directly in Oliver’s ear, her lips dragging against his skin.  “As soon as I put it on all I could imagine was you taking it off…”

The unspoken words, ‘with your teeth,’ hung in the room between them.  Judging by the way Oliver groaned and his eyelids fluttered, she really didn’t think that it needed to be said out loud.  He knew the end of that sentence as surely as Felicity did.

So Felicity pressed on, “Then the kidnapping happened and we _so_  deserved reunion sex after that.”

“Oh,  _definitely_ ,” Oliver agreed with a nod, playing along.  But Felicity could see how his breath was getting shorter and his pants tighter.  

Perfect.

“But I knew we had the tree lighting, so I was patient.” Felicity sighed dramatically, just to emphasize how difficult that really had been.  “Then after, I almost jumped you in the limo.”

Oliver laughed and it made Felicity so happy that he could remember anything in that damn limo and laugh.

“But I was patient then too.”  Licking her lips, Felicity made sure her tongue teased his ear as she said, “But, Oliver, I’m  _all_  out of patience.”

Letting out a groan…or, maybe, it was more of a growl, Oliver’s hands framed her face and…

Then his tongue was in her mouth and…yeah, that was  _much_ better.  A+ for enthusiasm and, well… _everything_  else.  Also, a win for communication.  Felicity really needed to remember that when she wanted sex, all she really needed to do was tell him.  She didn’t even need to ask, really.  Just keep Oliver informed of her…wants and needs.  

Yup, communication really was the foundation of a healthy relationship.

Felicity was able to feel Oliver’s cock length against her thigh while she spoke and, now, he was pressed against her, trapped in the leg of his pants, undoubtedly getting more and more uncomfortable as she sucked on his tongue.

Slipping one hand between them, Felicity dove straight past his waistband and went right for her prize.

Oliver groaned into her mouth, which, BTW, Felicity had always  _loved_.  The closer their mouths were meshed (and they were pretty fraking tightly sealed at the moment) the more she felt the sound in every  _single_  nerve-ending.  

The sound went straight to her clit and her hips bucked, grounding down against him, which was almost counterproductive to her rescue mission…but Felicity still managed to capture Oliver’s cock and release the poor baby from its confinement, helping it stand up tall between them, stroking (because why wouldn’t she?) until Oliver’s head fell back and his mouth tore away from hers as he groaned,  _“Fe-li-ci-ty_ …”

“Well, well, well, Mr. Mayor…” Felicity crooned in Oliver’s ear, sinking her teeth into his ear lobe and tugging.  God, she couldn’t  _wait_  to seduce him in his office.  She was totally allowed to do that now.  Or at least  _would_  be.  She going to be his  _wife_.  Wives were allowed to seduce their husbands anywhere they want, even at work.  It was a rule.  “Thirty-two years old and your fourth erection in 24 hours.  Impressive.”

Oliver chuckled, his breath hitching.  “Don’t sound so smug.”

The tip of Felicity’s tongue found the shell of Oliver’s ear and swirled.  “Why not?”

“Good point.  You should totally be smug.  Completely deserved.”  Felicity laughed, but then, Oliver cupped her head and moved it back so that they were eye to eye again.  “Go ahead and be smug, but don’t forget to be quiet,” he whispered, serious.  

Except, Oliver didn’t give Felicity a chance to answer as he tilted her head and, once again, thrust in his tongue to tangle with hers.

Okay.  Quiet.  

How the hell was Felicity supposed to do  _that_?  

Then she pictured just exactly who was on the other side of that door and…yup, Felicity had better remember to be quiet.

Her hand spasmed aground Oliver cock, pausing mid-stroke.  Felicity was actually surprised that he had let her play so long, but she supposed the 32 years old and 4th erection was probably allowing them both more leeway.

Which, now that Felicity thought about it, was kinda awesome.  Go, age and maturity!  10 points to Gryffindor!  Which Oliver definitely was.  She was more a Raven—

Oliver grabbed the hem of Felicity’s t-shirt and pulled, yanking her thoughts back to matter hand or…not as the case may be.  Since the shirt removal forced her hand  _and_  her mouth to disengage from their very pleasurable occupations.

Then, before Felicity had a chance to recalibrate, Oliver’s hands were on her ass and he was standing and all she could do was hold on tight as he rose to his feet.  

So…uh, is seemed dominant Oliver was out to play.   Which was…totally cool.  Felicity was never disappointed when he took charge.  At least, not in the bedroom.  Or the kitchen, it seemed which was where the were…actually, yeah, he should  _always_  be in charge in the kitchen.

Oliver’s hands slid down the back of her sweats, skimming over her bare ass, his fingers just barely touching her folds and…

Felicity’s ass hit the cool stainless-steel counter.  Oliver yanked her pants free and had thrown them across the room before she had the chance to catch her breath.

See, Felicity should have just told him of her desire for engagement sex right away.  Set her man in motion, then all  she had to do was hold on tight.  

Not that Felicity was generally passive in the bedroom, or had any desire to be, it was just that Oliver on a mission was…all consuming.  Overwhelming.  In the best possible way.  And he was,  _clearly,_  on a mission at the moment.

It would have been, well… _perfect_ , except Oliver dropped back to his knees and…

_Actually_ , Felicity had several problems with that.   But she had better tell Oliver what they were quickly, because he was teasing the inside of her knee with his mouth and his tongue was warm and his beard was rough and she was slowly (quickly) losing her mind as he worked his way up her thigh.

Okay.  Right.  Needed to speak.  Work those communication chops.  

Yup, any time now.  

Oliver’s tongue traced the crease between her thigh and her…

“First of all,” Felicity bust out (okay, it was more of a gasp, but whatever), slipping her toe into the neck of Oliver’s shirt (mostly, because that was what she could reach, but, again, whatever).  “This.   _Off_.”  

It wasn’t very articulate, but what the hell was Oliver expecting?  He was hot as frak  _and_  on his knees, his breath teasing her pussy.  Even with his shirt  _on,_ how was a girl to  _think?_   

Then Oliver grinned up at her and, with a look that said he knew  _exactly_  what he was doing to her, he sat back on his heels and pulled off his shirt.  

Slowly.  

With maximum sexiness.  

Cause, yeah, her fiancé (mmm, that was a wonderful word) loved turning Felicity’s considerable intellect into alphabet soup.

_God_ , that was distracting.  The way Oliver’s muscles bunched and moved as he pulled off his shirt and flung it away… _wow_.  It made her mouth water.  It was…the beauty of this man…

And it was all hers.  Forever and ever.  So help her God.

Felicity had the primitive urge to eat…him… _up_.

Which was probably a good thing because it helped her remember that  _other_  thing she wanted to say.  “Secondly, why are you allowed to kneel for me and I’m not allowed to kneel for you?”  Felicity wasn’t fond of double standards.  Even  _if_  they came with multiple orgasms.

“I  _told_  you.  Felicity Smoak…” And the look Oliver gave her when he said it…Felicity swore that caused liquid to  _gush_  from her.  “Kneels for  _no one_.”

Okay…that was kinda hot.  Also, it made Felicity feel all warm and treasured, but still…not okay.  “I thought we talked about not putting me on a pedestal?”

But, Oliver, the  _bastard_ , just grinned, “It’s not a pedestal.  It’s a counter.”

A  _cheeky_  bastard.  Of course, Oliver was all confidence and charm once they got (mostly) naked.

“ _Oliver._..” Felicity growled, trying desperately to keep her thoughts glued together in something resembling coherency.  “Well, Felicity Smoak’s  _husband_  doesn’t kneel for—”

Felicity broke off with a muffled screech as Oliver leaned in and sank his teeth into her thigh, just shy of her core.  Damn, he played dirty.  

“Felicity Smoak’s  _husband_  kneels for no one  _but_  his wife,” Oliver finished for her (since he’d short circuited her vocal cords), his voice thick and rich.  His tongue lashed out to soothe the spot he had bitten with quick, hard strokes.

Falling back onto her hands, Felicity let out a soft whimper, but still managed to say, “Well,  _this_  soon-to-be-wife demands equal opportunity kneeling.”  She took another gasping breath.  Her voice was gonna give out any second now.  “And…and _when_ we get back to the cabin.   _I_ am gonna get on my knees and you are gonna stand there and take it!”

Felicity’s mouth was watering at the mere thought of it.

And Oliver…his only reply was a growl.  Right against her folds.

Biting her cheek to keep her cries in (damn their nosy friends and the too thin walls.  Should have gone back to their cabin), Felicity gave in.  She’d have to be satisfied with that, with the threat/promise that she would be returning the favor in the near future, because Oliver’s nose was probing her clit and his lips and tongue had begun to  _devour_  her.  She was certain she was going to make her lips bleed with the effort to stay quiet.

It was so  _very_  worth it.

But wait…was there something else she had wanted to say?   _Frak_ , there was.  She knew there was.   

_God_ , that was good.   

It was almost unfair how good Oliver was at this.  But then, again, Felicity supposed that if it wasn’t fair than she was the one on the winning side of this deal, being this talented man’s soon to be wife…

Then Oliver’s tongue was inside her and his hands were kneading the tender skin of Felicity’s inner thighs, moving closer and closer to her clit and…

“You have to be inside me when I come for engagement sex,” Felicity blurted out as soon as she was able to grab hold of that fly away thought.  She was rather proud that she had managed to remember, actually.  Before it was too late.    

Oliver’s face jerked back and he stared up at her, in shock…she  _thought_ …actually it was really hard to make out his expression.  Damn, it was times like these when Felicity cursed her awful eyesight.  

“What?” Oliver’s voice was incredulous.  Yup, shocked disbelief.

“You heard me.  Engagement sex…” Oliver’s fingers inched toward her clit again, derailing Felicity’s thoughts.  Dammit!  He needed to stop purposely distracting her!  “…your cock  _in_  my vagina when we both come.”

Okay, that was sooo romantic.

But, seriously, her brain was a swirly mess of pleasure and her tongue felt kinda swollen.  Plus, breathing was an effort.  They were lucky her words resembled English.

And, of  _course_ , Oliver, the  _ass_ , laughed.  “Why?”

_Why_?  Talk about a stupid question!

“Be…because…” Okay, no fair asking Felicity to explain.  Obviously, the language centers of her brain had gone numb.  “Because it’s more romantic that way,” said the girl who just said, ‘she wanted his cock in her  _vagina_.’  At least, she hadn’t said ‘penis’.

Oliver’s chuckle showed Felicity that he had definitely caught the irony.  He pressed a slow, careful, kiss on her clit, his eyes never leaving hers.  Then he murmured, “I think  _this_  is pretty romantic.”  

He  _would_.

“Nope.  Nuh-uh.  I need you up  _here_ ,” Felicity panted, so very eloquently.  “Eye to eye.”

“Felicity, honey, when you come, your eyes won’t be open.”

She kicked Oliver in his back…since that was all Felicity could reach.  Stupid fluffy slipper socks probably cushioned the blow.  “ _Ass_!”

Oliver just laughed harder and…plunged two fingers inside of her as his tongue began to flick her clit.

Okay.  So…Oliver _wasn’t_ going to comply with her request.

Felicity wondered if she cared.  

Her head fell back with a gasp and a muffled whimper.  Felicity decided she was so going to be annoyed with him.  _Later_.  Definitely, later.  Maybe, she’d even figure out a way to get him back. Which would be fun, actually.

But just as Felicity’s thighs started to tremble and she was certain she was about to fall off that  _oh-so-pleasant_  cliff, Oliver pulled back.  She didn’t even have time to protest.  Or breathe.   

Because Oliver was on his feet and then he was inside her and his thumb was on Felicity’s clit as he ground into her and…

Felicity was  _exploding_  and it was glorious and Oliver was, _truly_ , the most wonderful fiancé in the world.  Of all _time_ , actually.

And, wow, this was the first time they had sex as an engaged couple with her body back.  And that was pretty fraking amazing too.  God bless Curtis and his little miracle stimulator, because every inch of her skin was humming with pleasure and that was a gift that brought tears to her eyes.  

She blinked up at Oliver and he was finally close enough that she could see him grinning at her.  Then, still smirking (yup, it was a smirk.  The arrogant ass), his hips pulled back and Felicity felt the long slow slide of his cock…almost all the way out, before he slid back in just as slowly.  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

“Never say I can’t compromise,” Oliver drawled and Felicity looked at him with confusion.  “You wanted to come with me inside you and I wanted you to have multiple orgasms.  Everybody wins.”

Then the bastard grinned, clearly proud of himself, as he fucked her slowly and thoroughly.  But Felicity could only laugh, because really Oliver’s compromise…really worked for her.  Still…

“Arrogant much?”

Oliver just shrugged.  “And for the record, you  _totally_  closed your eyes when you came.”

Scrunching up her face at him, Felicity kicked her heel against Oliver’s butt as retribution.  But then the feel of her foot bouncing off that perfect globe of muscle reminded her just what a thing of beauty it was and she rubbed the ball of her foot (which was unfortunately  _still_  in the damn slipper sock) against the smooth, firm, clenching marvel, pulling him closer.

And Oliver…he smirked even louder.

And,  _yes_ , with Oliver, such a thing was  _absolutely_  possible.  His smirks were  _loud_.  Felicity swore to God they were.

So, since turnabout was fair play, Felicity clenched her inner muscles until Oliver’s face went slack and his head fell back.  Then she nipped at his lower lip, telling him, “You are  _so_  lucky that I love you.”

“I know I am,” Oliver answered immediately, the smile on his face turning adoring.

Dammit, now Felicity couldn’t even be annoyed (not that she had  _really_  been annoyed.  How could she  _possibly_  be annoyed?). “You’re still an ass,” Felicity muttered, because for some reason she felt she should.

“I love you too.” Oliver stroked her neck and cupped her cheek, not in the slightest bit phased by her (half-hearted) insult.  “My beautiful bride.”

Felicity sighed, a soft little sob at the end, and shook her head.  “You always have to one up me,” she teased.  It was that or cry.  

“Impossible.”

“Stop being so perfect,” Felicity panted, looking down at their bodies, fascinated by the way Oliver’s disappeared inside hers.  Over and again.  It was so,  _damn_ , perfect.  “It’s annoying.”

Oliver snapped his hips and ground hard against her clit until Felicity gasped.  “Is  _this_  annoying?”

Felicity’s eyes rolled back and she arched her back, spreading her now perspiring fingers against the cool metal of the counter, trying desperately to gain traction.  

“Uh huh.”  Though, Felicity wasn’t a hundred percent sure, anymore, what she was agreeing to.

Chuckling, Oliver nibbled on Felicity’s chin as his hands ran down her flank.  “How about this?”

“Yup.  Absolutely.”

At that point, Felicity had decided to just agree to whatever Oliver said.  The results were pretty awesome.  Plus, her brain was a giant ball of cotton candy.  Spun pleasure.  She’d forgotten how easily, completely and… _blissfully_  he could make her brain turn off.

“How about this?” Oliver’s hands ran from her hips to her waist, in tandem, then slipped around to cup her breasts, squeezing and kneading.  When his thumb and forefinger began rolling and pulling on her nipples, her hips jerked uncontrollably and….

Dear God, Oliver began these slow,  _hard_  thrusts and Felicity thought she might (happily) die right there.

Felicity gasped as one particularly hard thrust sent a lightning bolt of sensation through her. “ _Oliver_...”

“Oliver, what?” was his husky whisper, teasing.  And how was he even coherent?  No fair!  “Oliver, stop?”

“Oliver, don’t you  _dare_!”

His deep chuckle rumbled over her skin as Oliver leaned in to catch her lips.  Felicity took pity on him.  Swinging her arms up and around his neck, she pressed herself fully against him and met his lips with hers.  One of his hands left her breast to span her back and pull her close.

Several long, slow kissed later, Felicity smiled into Oliver’s eyes, her body humming.  “See, how much more romantic this is?”

Oliver’s face melted and he rubbed his nose against hers.  All teasing gone.  “You were right.  As usual.”

“Ooo, say that again.”  Felicity even managed a shiver for affect.  Or maybe it was genuine, who knew?

He didn’t say it again, but he did step up the speed and power of his thrusts and that might have been even better.  And the pressure of his fingers on her nipple.  Oliver captured her lips just in time to swallow her low moans as she came.  Again.  Harder than before.  The peak echoing as his hips snapped harder and harder, losing their rhythm entirely until his lips went slack and his whole body stiffened.

Felicity held him to her, wrapping herself around him as they trembled together until the warm, languid aftermath seeped through her… _their_ muscles.  And she smiled against the side of his mouth.

“So,” Felicity laughed, happiness bubbling up and spilling over, suddenly, too much to contain.  “I’d say this engagement has already gone  _much_ better than the last one.”

Oliver’s face jerked up from where it had fallen bonelessly onto her shoulder, his eyes wide with disbelief, his mouth open, the corners twitching like he couldn’t quite figure out if he should smile or not.   “I sure as hell hope so!”

And, again, Felicity laughed, probably too loudly, but the hell with it.  Let them hear her laugh.  Let them hear how happy she… _they_  were.

Resting her extended arms on Oliver’s shoulders Felicity beamed at him until every emotion that wasn’t happiness faded from his expression and he beamed back.  Only then did she say, “I love you.”

There were never too many ‘I love you’s when it came to an engagement, in Felicity’s opinion.

 Or in life.

Chuckling, Oliver seemed to agree as he echoed, with no less emotion, “I love you too.”  Then, with a shake of his head, like he couldn’t quite believe this was all happening, Oliver leaned in to give her one…two...three soft kisses.

Then, all at once, Felicity felt like she was bubbling over with excitement and needed to share  _right_  the frak then.  “Let’s go tell the others!”

And, wow, she was actually surprised at how eager she was to face the crowd, even Thea and all her very passionate opinions about weddings.  A few minutes ago…half an hou…dear lord, how long _had_ they been in this room?  

Well, however long ago it was, Felicity had had no desire to share Oliver with anyone.  The last thing she had wanted to do was talk wedding planning with her friends.  But now…

Felicity genuinely couldn’t wait.  Wow, this is what she  _should_  have felt the first time around.  Maybe, she had, for a few precious minutes in that limo, before her world came crashing down.  And every time she’d managed to bolster up a piece of scaffolding, another piece fell.

It been a hellish year and half, but they had finally cleared away the rubble and were building again.  The foundation was solid and they were using bricks and mortar this time.  Everything that hadn’t felt perfect that first time…felt beyond perfect now.  

Except…she should really call her mother.  A part of Felicity was so excited to tell her  _everything_ , but her enthusiasm dimmed as she realized...if her mother couldn’t get here, and Felicity didn’t see how she could, then it would probably be better to tell her mom  _after_  they were married.

Maybe, they could stop by Vegas on the way home.  Her mom would like that.  Maybe, even bring William.  He’d enjoy the lights (after all they tended to make grown men and women _behave_ like children).  Hell, Felicity would even let her mother plan a post-wedding wedding extravaganza.  Go  _nuts_.  Glitter and all.  (But no actual nuts).  After they were married, Felicity really didn’t care what sort of garish nonsense her mom planned.

Except, Oliver was mayor now…whatever, Felicity would pair up Donna and Thea and let them plan the whole thing together.  That way it would be over the top, but at least it would be a classy _over the top_.  

And Felicity and Oliver could just put their feet up and enjoy the memories of their perfect wedding in Bali.

“Yeah,  _that_  should be fun,” but Oliver’s sarcastic tone was completely contradicted by the uncharacteristically happy smile taking over his entire face.  Felicity guessed that he was probably more excited than she was to share this with his family.

The excitement they had already seen on William’s face…that was a miracle in of itself.

Getting dressed took longer than it should have, because of all the kisses and the touches and whatnot and, well, the fact that it should have taken  _no_  time at all given their four items of clothing between them (they hadn’t taken off the slipper socks) and Oliver’s pants were still around his ankles.  Did her glasses count as an item of clothing?

Oliver looked almost nervous when he finally opened the door.  Excited, but nervous.  To be fair, who the hell knew what they would find in the other side.  

Felicity, however, felt pretty confident she could take on the world at the moment.  Bring it on!

_Revised 1/25/2018_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.  This and the next were one chapter, but Felicity had too much to say.  Then I took the opportunity to add some stuff I didn’t have time for the first time around and wal-lah, two fairly long chapters.  Hopefully, they aren’t slow from all the new stuff.
> 
> A million and a half thank you’s to  **Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed, andytiIreland1733** for all they do.  I could never do this without them.  And a special thanks to everyone who takes the time to comment and kudo.  It keeps me going.
> 
> Thank you and happy reading!!!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> (Emmilynestill on Tumblr and Twitter)
> 
>  
> 
>  


	15. A Family (Dys)Function

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver didn’t feel nervous at all.

Not until his hand closed around the door handle. 

Before that, Oliver had been flying pretty high on life, on orgasms (Felicity’s even more than his) and a wedding plan they were both more excited about than the first one.

Honestly, he couldn’t fucking _wait_ to be in Bali again.  It had become an almost mystical place in his head.  A mecca that they kept talking about returning to, but with every passing day it had become more and more unlikely, until Oliver had all but given up on ever happening. 

Returning there now, with Felicity, making her his wife on its shore…it was more than fitting.  It was…it felt like a completion of their journey together.  An ending to the hell they had forced their way through and a new beginning to something so much better. 

At sunset, a moment of beautiful transition.

It was so perfect Oliver’s secret inner sap wanted to weep.

Oliver couldn’t wait to share this… _happiness_ with his family.  With Thea and John and William and…

Except, Oliver didn’t know what he was going to get back in that lounge.  Weddings were easy to plan…until family got involved.  There was a reason people eloped. 

Of course, Oliver and Felicity were be the only couple in history to try to elope with their friends and family in tow.  Well, except for Donna which was something he really needed to think about.

Now, he had to worry about Thea’s very strong opinions and William’s feelings…which so far seemed positive, but if Oliver had learned anything in his _two days_ of being a father it was that 10 year-old’s moods _swing_.  Violently and without warning. 

And then…there was Curtis’ enthusiasm and Lyla’s stubbornness (since she was the one who would have to agree to bring them to Bali), Rene’s mouth and _Slade’s_ mouth and Nyssa…Jesus Christ, _Nyssa_.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver entered the lounge as quietly as he could (which was pretty damn quiet), hoping to get his bearings before the team swarmed like locusts.  Thankfully, everyone seemed pretty distracted.  And loud.  The chatter was, actually, far more… _animated_ than it had been before. 

John and Rene were in the back corner, next to Slade, engaged in a conversation that Slade may or may not be involved in.  Oliver couldn’t make out what they were saying, because the others…the others were all huddled around one of the circular tables, completely engrossed in a loud and muddled debate that seemed to involve multiple people speaking at once. 

Just looking at the group of them made Oliver…

Overwhelmed?  Nervous?  Petrified, maybe? 

Whatever it was, he had the very strong urge to grab Felicity’s hand and turn the fuck around.

Lyla had a sleepy JJ on her lap, but her face was a little too serious for his taste.  More ARGUS Lyla, than Mom Lyla.  Unless someone was shooting at them, Oliver far preferred Mom Lyla. 

Then there was Samantha and William, the former seemed to be watching the latter indulgently while his boy seemed to be very much involved in the conversation.  Very _animatedly_ engaged.  _Whole-body_ engaged.

Thea was busy scribbling on a piece of paper and talking at the same time and Curtis much the same, only with multiple tablets instead of paper.  Dinah was there and certainly not silent and…Oliver closed his eyes and took a breath… _Nyssa_.  He didn’t even want to know what Nyssa was doing over there.  And, _smiling_ , for Christ’s sake.

Oliver supposed he should be glad that no one had listened at the door.  But, somehow, whatever was going on over there seemed far scarier.

Looking back at his fiancé (yeah, that’s right.  His _fiancé_.  And, this time, Oliver was planning to make sure that title didn’t last the week, before they both got a promotion), he found that Felicity didn’t look nearly as worried as he felt. 

That was good.  Probably.  Though, Oliver thought, maybe, Felicity was disappointed that no one had even noticed their return, which made him a little peeved himself. 

Wasn’t it typical?  His family and friends too busy planning _their_ wedding to worry about the _actual_ bride and groom.  Oliver would just as soon slip out and back to their cabin, but Felicity deserved better.

Slipping an arm around her shoulders, Oliver tried to give her his most reassuring smile.  Felicity snuggled into him and he pressed a kiss to her forehead and saw…

Well, at least, _someone_ had noticed their return.  Quentin was in the corner next to the coffee, one side of his mouth tipped up in a knowing smile as he watched them.  For some reason, it made Oliver feel like blushing, which was just…annoying.  He frowned, hoping a nice scowl would mask the flush.

Quentin sauntered over quietly (he was a man who understood discretion, at least), stirring his coffee as his smile became more of a smirk than not.  “You two might regret taking so long in that room,” he said when he was close enough to whisper and not be heard.

Not that that was hard with the racket the others were making…wait.  Quentin said...

Ahh… _crap_.  This was exactly what Oliver was worried about.  “ _Why_?” he asked, knowing damn well that there was a very good chance that he didn’t want to know the answer.

Quentin gestured over to table where Curtis, William, and the ladies were gathered, in a way that suddenly reminded Oliver of the knights of the round table, but instead of planning a battle they were planning…

“Wedding Summit,” Quentin announced, nodding with mock severity.  “Very serious business.”

Fuckity fuck _fuck_.  Oliver should have known he couldn’t leave Thea alone (especially with _Curtis_ ) that long without her taking matters into her own hands.

Not that it mattered.  This wasn’t Thea’s wedding.  It was theirs.  So, Thea could plan until her face turned blue, but Felicity was getting what _Felicity_ wanted.  Oliver swore to _God,_ she would.

But...after it had taken so much care and effort to get Felicity to agree to _any_ wedding plan (that didn’t involve slipper socks and take more than 5 minutes to prepare), the last thing Oliver needed was a horde of well-meaning, but pushy as fuck, opinionated idiots (even if some of the idiots, were technically geniuses) getting inside his fiancé’s head. 

Oliver could feel himself tense up just thinking about it.  Especially now that he knew Felicity felt Donna had taken over their wedding planning the first time around.  He’d be damned if he let his sister, or anyone else, do that to his bride again. 

Felicity smothered a (semi-hysterical) laugh into the back of her hand, and Oliver frowned, squeezing her other hand, hoping she understood that he had her back.  His eyes fell shut and he took deep breathes through his nose, trying to center himself.  He was going to need to stay strong.  And calm.

It was okay.  He could be diplomatic. He could.  Oliver was downright charming when he wanted to be.   Firm, but charming.  The perfect bridegroom.  All he needed to do was make sure everyone was clear that Felicity was the bride, so _Felicity_ was in charge.  Thea would understand that.  Hopefully. 

“There _is_ gonna be a wedding, right?” Quentin asked, pulling Oliver’s attention back to him, and…the older man looked like he was ready to shove them back in that room until they came out with the correct answer.

And that kind of…warmed Oliver’s heart.  Quentin was a man he had always admired.  From childhood.  A man whose approval he had always coveted, perhaps even more than his own parents (whose own expectations were painfully low for the things that mattered).  A man’s whose daughter, Oliver was well aware, spent half of her life dreaming of marrying him.  A daughter who would never have any of her dreams come true.

With all that history, all that baggage, Oliver really couldn’t express how much Quentin’s approval of his and Felicity’s marriage meant to him.  

But his… _reflection_ , made Oliver slow in responding and Quentin was starting to frown, until Felicity (thankfully) had the presence of mind to nod, beaming up at Quentin with a look of such excitement that Oliver doubled down on his internal promise to make sure she got everything she wanted for her day. 

“Thank God!” Quentin breathed with obvious relief. “Otherwise, there probably would have been an intervention.  Or a _riot_.”  He shook his head in an exasperated sort of way and Oliver really didn’t think he was kidding.  “Oh, and congratulations, by the way.”  He leaned in and kissed Felicity’s cheek.

It made Felicity blush, this time, and it was rather sweet on her.  But, then, Quentin put a hand on her back, ushering her forward (and out of Oliver’s arms, which he cared for not at all) with a muttered, “Come on.  Let’s get this over with.”

Oliver was left with nothing to do but follow and as he did, Lance leaned over his shoulder and shot Oliver a hard glance.  “You are one lucky bastard, you know that, right?”

“I do,” Oliver assured, quickly and easily, since it was probably the easiest question he’d have to answer today. 

Felicity, however, frowned up at Quentin and Oliver was almost afraid she was going to start one of her defensive tirades, before he had a chance to tell her it was fine.  If the worst Quentin was going to say was to state the _absolute fact_ that Oliver was the one getting the better end of this deal, he was more than happy. 

Lance muttered, “Damn straight,” but he gave him a wink that seemed to relax Felicity and it would have had Oliver smile if Quentin didn’t immediately raise his voice and call out, “ _Hey_!  Everyone’s so busy planning somebody else’s wedding, that no one noticed that the bride and groom were back.”

Oliver’s mind got stuck for a second on the phrase ‘bride and groom’, but there was no time to savor (or adjust), because the room went silent and everyone turned to stare.

William was the first to speak, turning in his chair and coming up on his knee to demand, “Did you do it?  Are you getting married?”

Tears burned Oliver’s eyes and for a moment it was too much.  He stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Felicity’s shoulders, pressing his lips to her hair and breathing in the harsh scent of military grade shampoo as he tried to gather some control.  Oliver wasn’t even certain William was pleased, for God’s sake, and here he was about to start blubbering like a baby.

Thankfully, Felicity seemed more with it because she called out, “Yes.  Yes, we are.”

“ _Yes_!” William pumped his arm the air, then turned to fist bump Curtis. 

So…William was pleased.  The relief (and sheer emotion) left Oliver’s head spinning.  Thank _God_.

The room erupted in cheers and hoots and hollers.  Almost instantly, they were smothered with hugs and well-wishers.  Then Felicity was crying and Thea was crying and Curtis was crying, but Oliver was very glad that (somehow) _he_ managed to keep his in. 

It was hard, though.  Damn hard.  Thea threw herself in Oliver’s arms first, whispering, “I am so _so_ happy for you.  You deserve this, big brother.”

Burying his face in his little sister’s neck, Oliver whispered (not whimpered, damn it!), “Shush, I’m trying not to cry in front of my boy.”

Thea pulled back and cupped Oliver’s face, smiling tearfully into his eyes and saying, “Mom and Dad would be so _proud_ of you.”

Oliver’s mouth fell open and…God _damn_ it!   “You’re evil, you know that, right?” 

The minx just burst into laughter and lunged up to press a hard kiss to Oliver’s cheek, before pulling away and throwing herself into a rocking hug with Felicity.  And he was left…

Oliver’s eyes found William, holding himself back from the crowd, looking unsure.  

He hadn’t held his boy since he had snatched him away from Chase.  Actually, that had been the _only_ time.  And, even though, they had been getting along well…Oliver couldn’t say he didn’t feel pretty damn unsure himself, at the moment.

And if Oliver was feeling unsure, how was William feeling?

But Oliver was the Goddamn adult here, so it was his job to push past the awkwardness.  And to, somehow, not pressure William at the same time.  Why was parenting so complicated?

Taking a deep breath, Oliver caught William’s gaze and gave him a small smile.  Then he waited…and when William finally gave him a smile back, Oliver chanced opening his arms and…

Then he had an arm full of ten-year old. 

And, _yeah_ , Oliver was a goner. 

Oliver wrapped his arms around his boy and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the burn.  He tipped his head down and pressed his nose into William’s hair, trying to memorize his smell.  Oliver couldn’t speak.  There was no way, but…when he could finally open his eyes (wet as they were) he found William’s eyes just as tightly closed, his face buried in father’s chest.

Across the room (God only knows why), Oliver’s eyes sought out Samantha.   She was the only one still seated at the table, but she was smiling and looking pleased and…really, that was all the wedding present Oliver needed from her. 

Oliver pressed a kiss to William’s head and then turned his head to find Felicity smiling at him, her face drenched in tears.  He almost envied her ability to show her emotions so easily.  He hoped William would learn so much from her.

When William finally looked up at Oliver, the boy stepped back, out if his arms, looking almost embarrassed.  Oliver wasn’t sure if it was because their relationship was so new or because showing this much affection in public was naturally embarrassing for a ten-year-old boy. 

Oliver thought it was the later, but he couldn’t find the words to make William feel better.  Where was Oliver’s fabled charm now?

Probably, stuck in Oliver’s throat with all the emotion that threatened to choke him.  But, of course, his Felicity saved the day, turning to William and saying, “Do I get a hug too?”

Since Oliver didn’t know anyone who could say ‘no’ to Felicity, he wasn’t surprised when William threw himself into her arms next.  Though, Oliver was a little taken aback at how close in height they were in bare feet. 

Felicity whispered something to William that Oliver couldn’t hear and William grinned ear to ear, saying, “I told you!”

Cupping his face, Felicity tilted her head the short distance it took for them to be eye to eye and told William, “ _That_ is because you are smarter than any of us.”  Then she noisily kissed each of his cheeks in turn and William looked like he might faint he was so happy.

Honestly, Oliver didn’t know how the hell Felicity did it, but he was so damn grateful.

William practically skipped back to his mother, making room for more well-wishers. 

Next came Lyla and a very sleepy JJ, who completely butchered the word, “Congratulations,” making it a thousand times cuter for the effort.  Then Dinah and Curtis, who swung Felicity off the ground he was so excited, babbling on about something Oliver hoped Felicity understood, because Oliver sure as hell didn’t.

“’Bout friggin time,” was René’s form of congratulations as he took his turn hugging Felicity.  Oliver got a hand slap that turned into a one-armed bro-hug from the smaller man as John enfolded Felicity in his strong arms.

“Don’t say that until the deed is done,” John warned Rene from next to him, still holding Felicity.  Oliver could tell he was only half-teasing.  “Papers signed.  Rings exchanged.  _Then_ I’ll breathe a sigh of relief.”

“You and me both,” Oliver agreed, because no truer words had ever been spoken. 

Oliver was able to hear John whispered in Felicity’s ear, “Congratulations.  No two people deserve to be happy more.”  And then he watched her sniff and pull off her glasses to wipe her now swollen eyes.

There wasn’t a thing Oliver could do to help, though, because John turned to embrace him and, damn, if he wasn’t fighting, again, to keep his own eyes dry.

What was worse, as soon as John stepped away, Oliver found himself staring at the one-eyed smirk of Slade Wilson.  And talk about the last person on Earth Oliver wanted to catch him tearing up.

On the other hand, just looking at the bastard’s shit-eating grin as he lounged against the back of a couch, arms and ankles crossed, was enough to pull Oliver out of his emotions.  It was hard to cry with happiness and want to slug someone at the same time.

“ _So_ , I see you finally got your head out of your ass,” Slade drawled.

And, yup, Slade was the gift that just kept giving.

Felicity rolled her eyes and leaned against Oliver’s shoulder, temporality free from having someone to hug.  “You talking to him or me?” she asked caustically, eyebrows up and head tipped to the side.  It made Oliver want to grin, because, clearly, he Slade was talking to _him_.

But Slade turned his one eye on Felicity and said, “Both.” Which was a lie and they both knew it.

But Slade and Felicity stared each other down for a full minute and Oliver had no idea what he was going to do about this dynamic if Slade decided to stick around. 

And, still, Slade just stood there, looking at the couple as if they were there for his amusement, until, finally, he tipped his head to the side and said, “Of course, that depends on what you decide to do with _that one._ ”

Slade jerked him chin to his right and Oliver followed his line of sight to see Nyssa sauntering over and… _Goddamn_ it.  She was probably the only person Oliver wanted to deal with less than Slade.  Plus, he would swear that Nyssa was purposely putting on her most sexy badass strut. 

Once upon a time, Oliver wouldn’t have been immune to it, but those days were long gone.  Of course, now he was more worried about his so called “wife” hitting on his _actual_ fiancé than anything else.

Nyssa’s smirk put Slade’s to shame (to be fair, she was a hell of a lot better looking) and even in ARGUS sweats and makeup free, she looked every inch the assassin as she murmured, “Who says anything needs to be done?”  Nyssa’s eyes narrowed in on Felicity and Oliver really didn’t like the look in her eye.  “I am very pleased with my husband’s choice.  Felicity will make an excellent sister wife.”

Oliver threw his head back and closed his eyes, grunting.  Though, who was he kidding?  He’d known exactly what was coming.  Felicity let out a burst of laughter and, at least, he could take comfort in the fact that she was finding humor in the situation. 

But Nyssa seemed neither intimidated by his frown nor Felicity’s laughter.  And, certainly, not by the arm Oliver had firmly around his fiancé…his _legitimate_ , not coerced and sanctified by a defunct ancient cult, _fiancé_.  This engagement was even _consummated_ , which was a hell of a lot more than anyone could say about that so-called marriage.

Even with the glare Oliver was giving her, and he swore it was his worst death stare, Nyssa walked straight up to Felicity and said, with what passed (for her) as warmth, “Welcome, sister.” Then, before Oliver knew what was happening, she cupped Felicity’s cheeks and…

Oliver swore he thought she was going to kiss her on the cheek.  Or forehead.  Or…well, he sure as hell would have stopped her if he had known that Nyssa would give Felicity a hard kiss right on the mouth.

Felicity’s eyes snapped open wide and she gave a muffled, “Eep.”

And, unfortunately, Oliver wasn’t even find his voice until after she pulled back, then he snapped, “What the hell, Nyssa?”

Nyssa gave him the least innocent innocent look Oliver had ever seen and shrugged.  “It’s all in the family, husband.”

“No…no, _it’s not_ …” Oliver sputtered, but they all seemed to be ignoring him.

Felicity might be blushing, but she also looked incredibly entertained by the whole thing.  “So, if you marry Sara, will she be my ‘sister wife,’ too?”

“Felicity!” Oliver gasped, looking at her incredulously.  Shouldn’t they be standing together on this?  Shutting it down?  As in, _immediately_?

Instead, Oliver got further ignored as Nyssa told his fiancé, “Of course,” with sly a smile that really got Oliver’s hackles up.

And, of _course_ , that set Slade off and he laughed, “I take it back, kid.  I’m starting to see the advantages of this scenario.”

Crap.  Now things were really getting out of hand. 

Oliver’s eyes flew over to his son, his poor young, (he really hoped wasn’t catching the jokes about foursomes and polyamory) son.  Luckily, Curtis seemed to have William engaged with something on his multiple tablets.

Now, to nip this nonsense in the bud.  Oliver looked at Nyssa and very firmly said, “No.”  Then Slade.  “No.”  And his fiancé.  “N—”

“Come on, Oliver, where’s your sense of adventure?” Felicity asked and it might have been concerning if she wasn’t laughing so hard she barely got the words out.  Finally, she gave up and turned to bury her hilarity in Oliver’s chest.

Now, don’t get Oliver wrong.  There was a time he would have jumped at the idea of a night with three gorgeous women in his bed, two of which…nope.  Didn’t even want to imagine it.  

Those days…long gone.  No.  No.  No.  And _nope_.

“You know, I don’t share well,” Oliver whispered in Felicity’s ear.  “And I’m pretty damn sure the only one Nyssa is interested in in this arrangement is you.”

Felicity just laughed harder, her shoulders shaking beneath his hands.  Nyssa’s smirk didn’t waver, either, she just turned to Oliver and said, “Congratulations, husband.   Do let me know if you need any… _help_.”

Then, before Oliver could put an arrow in her, Nyssa patted his cheek and glided out the door like the Queen of fucking Sheba. 

And Slade…Goddamn, _fucking_ Slade came over and cupped both his and Felicity’s faces.  It was all Oliver could do to not flinch as Felicity shrank back into him, eyes wide. Both of them froze as Slade kissed each of their cheeks.  Then grinning like a mad man, pronounced, “Half your luck, kid.”

Oliver could only gape.  “What?!”

Felicity gave Oliver a soothing little pat on his chest.  “I _think_ he said congratulations.  In Australian.”  Though, the face she was making showed she wasn’t sure if she should be creeped out or not and she was holding the cheek Slade kissed as if it burned.

“Um…guys? If you are done getting vaguely threatening congratulations from your frenemies, we could really use you over here,” Curtis called from the table, waving them over.

So…done with the celebrating, time for the…summit?  Fuck.

Even Felicity looked nervous.  “And…um, why exactly?” she deflected, tipping her head to look up at Oliver and twirling a piece of hair around her finger.  ‘Help,’ was what her expression said and he really wished he knew what to do, wished he could make it all go away. 

But he couldn’t, mostly because they loved (most of) these people so much.  So Oliver tried to express, without words, that this all was going to be okay.  Because he was going to make damn _sure_ it.  It would be a cold day in hell before he let any of them take over their wedding.“To plan the wedding, duh,” William called out, grinning ear to ear.

Except his son.

Damn it!

Okay, no.   Oliver wasn’t even letting his son take this wedding over from Felicity.  Even if the thought of disappointing William made Oliver physically sick.

His fiancé, apparently, felt the same, because Felicity completely melted in the face of William’s enthusiasm and pulled out of Oliver’s arms to join the table.  

“Okay, but rule number _one_ …” Felicity announced, throwing a very pointed look at Thea (who, let’s face it, they _all knew_ was the ring leader), “we will _not_ be waiting.”  And Oliver was relieved that she was, at least, setting boundaries.

But Thea just grinned wider, reaching out (a surprisingly long) arm and grabbing Felicity’s hand.  Thea reeled Felicity in and pushed her into the seat next to hers.  “Speaking of which…”

This time, the look Felicity threw Oliver was full-on panicked and he scowled as Felicity was engulfed by the ‘summit’ table.  Taking a spot between his sister and his fiancé, Oliver decided to stay standing.  He crossed his arms and frowned, hoping he looked good and intimidating.  He was _not_ allowing history to repeat itself.  

Felicity took a deep breath and sent Oliver a reassuring smile.  He supposed she wanted to at least listen to what they had to say, if for no other reason than William looked so excited.  But Oliver really thought it would be best to gently assert _their_ plan as soon as possible. 

“Okay,” Thea began, sliding her chair even closer to Felicity’s, ignoring Oliver completely, “we need to talk about this shotgun wedding plan—”

_“Th-ea_!” and maybe Oliver growled at his sister a little, towering over and sending her a death glare.  Though, God knew, Thea was the last person on Earth ever intimidated by him.  Well, besides Felicity.

So, of course, Thea just blinked up at him and singsonged in a mockery of his own tone, “ _Ol-i-ver…”_

This was really not going well.  “Thea, this is _Felicity’s_ wedding—”

“And yours,” Felicity piped up, sending Oliver a hard look.

Turning his eyes to his fiancé, Oliver felt his face melt into a lovesick smile and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.  “And mine,” he agreed, but, then, he turned back to his sister and said (maybe, a little less growly this time), “And we are going to have the wedding _we_ want.”

Rolling her eyes and tilting her head, Thea sent Oliver a look that was all Queen Stubbornness (yes, with a capital ‘S’) and, damn, if William wasn’t watching closely and taking mental notes.  “Are you seriously going to tell me that slipper socks and work-out clothes is the wedding you _want_?  After all you’ve both been through?”  Then Thea threw her hands in the air.  “What am I saying?  It probably is what _you_ want.  But doesn’t your bride deserve better?”

And if they hadn’t already decided against slipper socks, Oliver would consider them just to spite his sister. 

But Oliver didn’t have time to come up with a biting comeback, because Felicity slid her hand over and gently took Thea’s, saying gently, “I _really_ don’t want a big wedding.  I don’t want the spectacle that would be an ex-billionaire, now major, marrying an ousted CEO would be in Star City.  And I _don’t_ want to wait!”

See, Felicity was so much better at diplomacy than he was.  Of course, she also had a softer heart, so…he also needed to make sure no one took advantage of it.  Oliver sat back on his heels and watched his sister’s reaction. 

Thea’s eyes brightened, twinkling almost, which…okay, that was not what Oliver had been expecting.  And it just made him more on edge.

“We can work with all that,” Thea assured.  “Just hear me out.”  She didn’t wait for Felicity to agree or not (or Oliver, for that matter.  Though, he didn’t kid himself that Thea cared what _he_ thought).  She just launched into her argument, “We have a plan that will have you married in forty-eight hours with a wedding you will _want_ to remember—”

Okay…maybe, Oliver should just shut this down.  Make it clear that the plan was Bali, before things went any further.

“Thea, we already…” Oliver started to argue, but Felicity shot him a look that stopped him dead in his tracks.   She looked…intrigued.  Okay, well, if Felicity wanted to hear them out, he certainly wouldn’t stop her.  Oliver just hoped she wouldn’t end up regretting that decision. 

Felicity held out her hand to Oliver and took it, squeezing it (and holding his breath).  Then his fiancé turned to Thea and said, “We’re listening.”

Oliver sighed, letting his other hand fall on Felicity’s shoulder while Thea beamed.  He looked around the table at the excited looks and he just hoped that their idea isn’t too far off from his and Felicity’s, because it wasn’t going to be fun turning them down.

“So,” Thea grinned, “tomorrow morning we pull into Manila Bay, Philippines—”

“As in the Battle of Manila Bay?  World War II?” Felicity asked and Oliver…he had no fucking clue what she was talking about.  Was that something everyone learned in school or was it some obscure thing only nerds knew?

“The same,” Lyla answered.  She had JJ in her lap, his head lolling on her shoulder, trying to keep his eyes open as she rocked him.  “Of course, it’s a thriving city now.  The navy often docks there.  It’s really beautiful.”

“But more importantly,” Thea threw in, “it has _fantastic_ shopping!”  Of course, that’s what Thea would care about.  Oliver barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

“I think being beautiful is at least as important as the shopping,” Dinah drawled.  Oliver knew she was the level-headed one.

Thea looked like she wanted to argue the point, but Curtis chimed in, “But really, the historical significance is poetic.  Manila was completely decimated by World War II and now it’s a thriving metropolis.  Risen from the ashes.  Kinda like Oliver.”

Oliver winced, groaning, “Seriously, Curtis?”  And this time he _did_ roll his eyes.  Where did they come up with this shit?  Risen from the ashes?  Oliver never rose from any ashes, he’d bathed in them.  Ten years later and he was still trying to get himself clean.  

Patting Oliver’s hand, Felicity smiled up at him.  “Well, I _do_ think it’s rather poetic, as a matter of fact.”  Because, she would.  “It’s okay, Curtis.  Oliver hasn’t quite learned how to take praise. _Yet_.” 

Why did that last word sounded more like a threat than a promise?

Oliver grunted, fighting a Goddamn blush that he had no business sporting, and Thea threw a look at Curtis.  “Are we done with the history lesson?” Curtis shrugged so Thea plowed ahead, “We dock tomorrow morning and then we have 24 hours to shop and prepare.  Then Captain Mitchell has agreed to marry you overlooking the bay on the deck of this Aircraft Carrier, which is _quite_ the honor, by the way.”

Great, now Oliver had to worry about insulting the naval captain who saved their lives when he told them he and Felicity had already decided on Bali.

 “We checked the weather,” Dinah added, “and it will be gorgeous, clear and milder than usual for this time of year.  Perfect for an outdoor wedding.”

Oliver needed to stop this runaway train before it became a wreck.  He squeezed Felicity’s hand and interrupted, “We appreciate this, but—”

“Can it be at sunset?” Felicity asked and…she, actually, sounded excited.

Oliver’s eyes flew to her face as he tried to figure out what she was thinking.  He really wasn’t okay with Felicity giving in to make everyone else happy. 

Lyla shrugged.  “I don’t see why not.”

“Manila actually has incredible sunsets.” Curtis swiped at one of his tablets, then pushed it over to Felicity.  Her breath caught as she looked at it. 

Okay, Oliver had let this go on too long. 

“Felicity and I decided we want to get married in Bali,” Oliver told the crowd.  Calmly, but firmly.  Then he turned to Lyla.  “Isn’t there a way to go there instead?”  Was it really that much further than the Philippines?  They were already on the open ocean.

 “Oliver,” Lyla sighed and, unfortunately, she did not look all that accommodating.  “A ship this size can’t just dock anywhere.  With the weapons on board it has to be cleared weeks or months in advance for a new dock.  Manila is one of its bases in the South Pacific.”

“Oh.” Goddamn it.  Oliver swallowed his disappointment and…it was okay, he could still make this work.  It could still be perfect.  He crouched next to Felicity and turned her chair so it faced him, telling her gently, “We could still fly to Bali from Manila.”  It couldn’t be more than a single flight.  “All of us.”

Felicity didn’t look disappointed.  Actually, if he was interpreting her expression right, Oliver thought she seemed most worried about disappointing _him_.

Lord, what a pair they were. 

“Oliver, look at this,” Felicity whispered, flipping over the tablet and showing Oliver…well, he had to admit that it was one of the most magnificent sunsets he had ever seen.  “It’s breathtaking.”

Oliver had to agree.  It was even better than what he had imagined when Felicity first put the idea in his head.  But Bali…it had meaning for them.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver searched her eyes.  Because as much as he loved the idea of Bali, when it came down to it, all Oliver cared about was making Felicity happy.  And she looked really taken with this sunset.

Oliver’s eyes softened and his voice lowered, “Is this what you _really_ want?  I want this to be the wedding _you_ want, not your mom, not _Thea_ …”  Or even William.

Felicity cupped Oliver’s cheek and he leaned in to it.  She didn’t _look_ someone who was giving up their dream and the smile in her eyes was nothing like the way she looked when her mother was…trying to _glitterize_ everything. 

“Captain Mitchell couldn’t marry us in Bali.  Or on the beach.  I _like_ Captain Mitchell,” Felicity argued, her voice soft.  “Which…okay, is probably silly since I barely know the man, but he gives off a really good vibe.” Curtis hummed his agreement and Oliver found it distracting (and annoying).  “And he’s willing to marry us on deck.  How many people can say they got married on the deck of an _aircraft carrier_?  At sunset?  Overlooking Manila Bay in the _Philippines_?”

Okay then…Felicity made an excellent point.  Several actually.

She did look happy with the plan and Oliver couldn’t say it wouldn’t be a relief not to have to worry about getting them all to Bali.  _And_ getting a marriage license. And finding an officiant.  And…a million other things.  He didn’t quite have the money he used to to make the impossible happen.

“Are you sure?”  Oliver asked even more softly, his eyes searching hers.  Because he really needed to know Felicity was sure.  If she wasn’t he’d pull the plug on this right then and there.

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

Was she sure? 

Actually, Felicity thought she knew the minute Curtis handed her the photograph of that gorgeous sunset over Manila Bay.  I just felt… _right_. 

And, wow, Felicity could just imagine staring into Oliver’s beautiful eyes, exchanging their vows with that as a back-drop.  And on an fraking aircraft carrier?  How cool was _that_? 

Felicity could still have her breeze and the smell of the ocean, the sun glinting off it the water, _and_ she’d get to buy a pair of fantastic heels.  (While Oliver may have rolled his eyes at the idea of great shopping, _she_ had not.  Thea as her personal shopper…nothing to scoff at).  Honestly, Oliver was far too tall for her not to be wearing heels when they got married.

Yes, Felicity had agreed to Oliver’s wedding in Bali plan.  And, yes, that had seemed like the best plan at the time.  But, really, she had to admit this one was…sorta, kinda better. 

This way, they didn’t have to worry about all the annoying logistics of getting married in a foreign country (technically this boat was American “soil” and its captain could issue an _American_ marriage license).

And, frankly, something that was guaranteed to happen in 48 hours, where Thea and Lyla handled all the annoying details, sounded great. 

So _fantastically_ great.  Felicity, really, didn’t think Oliver fully comprehended the part where she was _not_ a party planner.

Biting her lip, Felicity let the team’s plan (Team Wedding’s, not Team Arrow’s) wash over her, the whole idea of it. 

They could be married in forty-eight hours on the deck of this ship, at sunset, and Felicity wouldn’t have to wear slipper socks. 

Yup, worked for her.

But Oliver…Felicity really worried that Oliver had his heart set on Bali.  She knew he would do whatever she wanted, but…she didn’t want that.  She wanted him as excited as she was.  Taking both his hands in hers, Felicity bit her lip and offered a compromise, “We could still honeymoon in Bali?” 

Because, really, wasn’t that having their cake and eating it too?

As soon as Felicity said the word ‘Bali’, Oliver relaxed (though, maybe, it was the word ‘honeymoon’).  His smile started out small, but soon took over his entire face.  “I think I could live with that,” he murmured and his words might be mild, but Felicity could tell from the look in his eyes that he was already imagining it.  And was quite pleased with the images his brain had conjured.

“So, it’s settled?” Thea prompted, starring her brother down.  She seemed more eager than anyone to move things along.  “Wedding in Manila, day after tomorrow?”

Felicity almost squealed it sounded so good.  _Day after tomorrow_.  Oh God, this was really happening.

But even though Felicity had managed to keep the sound in (she thought), Oliver seemed understand how excited this made her.  He gave her a private smile and turned to his sister, putting his hands up in surrender.  “Whatever Felicity wants.”

Quentin appeared to clap Oliver on the back.  “Already sounding like a good husband.”

There was a smattering of chuckles as group turned to her and Felicity could feel giddy anticipation bubbling up inside her, in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long, _long_ time.  “Manila, it is!”

“Yessss!” William shouted, bounding to his feet and it made Felicity very glad that they had made this decision.  Who knew he would care so much?

Then, Oliver leaned in and whispered into her ear, in a tone that made Felicity shiver, “Then Bali.”

Blushing, Felicity swallowed and agreed, “Then Bali.”  God, that sounded fantastic.  Just a quick stop in paradise before heading back to reality.   _Alone_.  “Though, after that we really should stop in Vegas to break the news to my mom.” She winced a little at the thought.  Her mom at least deserved to be told in person. 

There was guilt and, maybe, touch of grief that her mom wouldn’t be here for the ceremony, but Felicity pushed it aside.  There was no time for those sorts of thoughts.  Forty-eight hours was not a long time to plan a wedding.

“We can do that,” Oliver agreed, but he was frowning, looking at her with a concerned expression and…oh God, he probably wanted to talk about her mother, which would probably make her feel even guiltier.  He’d get his soft eyes and his I-would-give-anything-to-have-my-parents-here expression and…

Crap, now, Felicity really was feeling like…well, crap.

Blowing out a breath, Felicity didn’t want to go there right now so…pressing on.  They needed something else to focus on.

“Oh…we need a photographer.”  Felicity patted Oliver’s chest.  He was still crouched beside her.  He could do that for hours, because of those fabulous thighs and abs and…right, she was trying to focus here.  “The only request Oliver has is that we get some good pictures.”

“My mom’s a photographer,” William announced, loudly and with…a whole _lot_ of zeal.  And that was…huh…okay…

Felicity was certain Samantha was just _thrilled_ to be volunteered to photograph her Baby Daddy’s wedding.

“Oh William…” Samantha winced (who wouldn’t), before turning to Oliver and Felicity.  She had been quiet, but surprisingly pleasant, through this entire ..spectacle.  “I’m an amateur, really.  It’s just a hobby.”

And that surprised Felicity more than anything, because she didn’t seem to be saying ‘no’.  Samantha, actually, seemed more concerned about her abilities than…the incredible awkwardness that was this situation. 

“She’s really good,” William insisted and the pride he had in his Mom, his eagerness to help, it really was very sweet.  He was such an easy kid to love.

But this…this wasn’t something Felicity knew how to answer.  Having your fiancé’s Baby Mama as your wedding photographer?  It was odd, but strangely enough, she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. 

Options were limited.  Still, Felicity hedged, “We really wouldn’t want to impose.” 

That seemed the polite thing to say either way, because if Samantha wasn’t genuinely interested in doing it, then…it would be _bad_ idea.  Felicity glanced at Oliver and he shrugged, his expression…he wasn’t fully against the idea either.

“Actually, I’d be happy to.  Really,” Samantha burst out with and that stunned Felicity again, _because_ it seemed genuine.  “I enjoy it, but…I’m just not a professional.  I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Samantha was sincere.  And William looked like it would mean the world to him.  Felicity turned to Oliver.  If it was okay with him, it was good with her.  What was the worst that could happen? 

Wait.  Felicity didn’t think she wanted the answer to that one.

Oliver searched Felicity’s face, and when she nodded her encouragement, he turned back to Samantha with a half-smile.  “I really don’t think we are getting a professional photographer in forty-eight hours in a country we’ve never been to.  So, if you _really_ don’t mind—?” 

“In that case, I’d love to.  It’s the least I can do.” Samantha was smiling.  And she looked pleased.  Relieved, even.

And that was when Felicity realized the depth of Samantha’s guilt for breaking them up in the first place.  Though, Felicity thought that, maybe, this spoke very well of her being a good person at heart.  And thank _God_ , since she’d be in their lives for, well, possibly _ever_.

Squeezing Oliver’s hand, Felicity smiled back and said, “Thank you.” And she actually thought Samantha blushed.

“Oh…but I don’t have a camera.” Samantha bit her lip, looking around.  “And for something like this, you really want a good one.  Not every camera can capture a sunset like that.” 

There was a fire that flashed Samantha’s eyes when she mentioned about the sunset and Felicity realized that she was seeing a new side of her.   An artist excited by capturing something beautiful.  Maybe this wasn’t just guilt and the desire to make her son happy. 

Lyla waved a hand and gave a dismissive shrug.  “You’ll find everything you need in Manila.”

Thea looked at Curtis and William (her partners in crime, it seemed) and did a little dance in her chair, singing, “Shopping!  Whoo hoo!”

Oliver rolled his eyes, but Felicity found it hard not to laugh.  Actually, why shouldn’t she laugh?  This was…fun. 

So, she did.  Felicity laughed. 

She was pretty damn excited about the shopping herself.  Not for the camera (though, Felicity had a feeling if she started researching the technical specs on the different cameras out there she could fall into a pretty deep rabbit hole), but when it came to shopping for clothes and shoes, her enthusiasm could rival Thea’s.

Curtis turned his biggest smile on Samantha, “You can hang with me.  I’m going to look for some video equipment to hook up a drone and get some aerial shots.”  Felicity could have kissed him.  For so many reasons.

“Cooool!” William breathed, in complete awe.  It was adorable.  Now Felicity wanted to kiss them both.

The kid’s excitement just made Curtis grin bigger, “Wanna be my assistant?”

William nodded his head with more eagerness than Felicity had realized a person could possess.  It was…so incredibly amazing to see him so juiced up about his part in this, their _wedding_. 

And also…tech.  Felicity had a feeling her and Curtis were going to get a little apprentice for the lab.  Oliver would hate it, but she was so excited she could squeal.

But, then, she saw Oliver looking at her with a look of pure joy and awe and…well, maybe he would be fine with William in the lab.  As long as they kept him away from the explosives. Though, T-spheres could be unpredictable…

It would be fine.  They’d figure it out. 

“Thank you, Curtis,” Oliver said and Felicity knew he meant for including his son, but, thankfully,  anyone else who realized that ignored it.

Curtis shrugged, his grin seemingly permanently plastered across his face.  “It’s the least I can do for my favorite ship.”

Samantha tipped her head and narrowed her eyes in confusion.  “You’re a fan of aircraft carriers?”  She asked it so politely.  As if it was a weird thing to be fond of, but she was trying to make it sound interesting instead of strange.  Poor Samantha.  She had no idea what she was getting herself into. 

“Oh mom,” William groaned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.  “Curtis means ‘couple.’ As in relation _ship_.”

And, seriously, Felicity had to bite her lip and press her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  Poor, poor Samantha

She took it in stride, though, giving a very mom-like, long-suffering sigh.  It seemed Samantha was used to being out of touch as far as William was concerned. 

Then Samantha shook her head, pushing herself back from the table.  “Okay, then.  On that note, I’m going to go and try to catch up on some sleep.   It sounds like tomorrow will be a big day.” She turned to her son.  “I’m guessing you want to stay?”

William gave her another of his frantic, hopeful-excited nods.  Though, honestly, he looked almost as tired as his mother.  In an almost delirious, too-tired-to-rest way.  “Can I?”

Felicity was sure that Samantha was in for a fight if she said, ‘no’ and prepared to have to back her up, but Samantha just gave a tired smile and told her son, “Just stay with…” She looked around the table with an almost overwhelmed look (and Felicity had never related to her more).  “Just stay with someone you’re related to.  Or soon to be related to.”

Wow.  Okay.  Felicity realized that she had been included in that list and that was…all right, then.

“Thanks, mom.”  William beamed and tilted his head for Samantha to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Be good.”

Samantha left, but no one else seemed ready to call it a day.  Dinah rubbed her hands together and leaned forward, jumping in with, “Okay, we need a game plan.  We don’t have much time.” 

Felicity would never have pegged Dinah for someone who would be excited about wedding planning, but it was kinda awesome that she cared.  Also, they could definitely use all the help they can get.

Thea pulled a pad of paper in front of her, grabbing a pen and at it.  “Obviously, a dress and clothing for, well, all of us is the number one priority.  We need to get out of these fashion nightmares asap.  Oh and rings.  We’ll have to buy wedding rings, but,” Thea stopped her almost manic diatribe to look over at Oliver and Felicity, “do you want a new engagement ring or did you plan to still use mom’s?”

At the mention of her old engagement ring, Felicity’s heart kind of did an odd skipping sort of thing and her left hand clenched.  As if to feel the phantom ring.  It had taken months to get rid of that feeling.

“Your mom’s ring has the disadvantage of being _not here_ ,” Curtis offered.

And also…Moira’s ring.  Felicity wasn’t having the warmest feelings for the woman today and she couldn’t say that she hadn’t thought that, maybe, that ring held a little bad mojo.  It wasn’t like Moira had a history of healthy marriages.

“Wellll, um…” Oliver muttered.

Felicity turned to look at him, narrowing her eyes as he shifted uncomfortably, which she…she had no idea what _that_ was about.  Plus, he was refusing to look at her. Or anyone, really. 

“Not exactly,” Oliver finally spit out, chewing on the inside of his lip.

Not exactly?  Felicity frowned and, cupping his chin, forced him look at her.  “Oliver, what’s going on?” 

Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath.  Then Oliver, again, bodily turned Felicity’s chair so that they were eye to eye, only closer this time.  And in his eyes…there was something deep and fathomless going on inside there.  Among other things, he was very nervous.

And that made Felicity nervous.

“If you want a new engagement ring, a fresh start and all that…” Oliver began and Felicity wondered if he was going to try to convince her to keep his mom’s.  Because of the legacy or whatnot.  “But…” He swallowed, looking ridiculously uncomfortable.  “I do have your…old engagement ring.  Here.  With me.”

Felicity couldn’t do anything but blink at him, trying to make sense of what Oliver was saying.  “What?”  That didn’t even make sense.  “ _How_?”

Oliver’s face screwed up, embarrassment written across every feature, as his eyes darted around the room then back to hers.  This was obviously a conversation he would prefer to have privately.  Felicity was even going to suggest that… 

But, then, Oliver lowered his voice even further and said in a barely-there whisper, “It’s, uh…sewed into the Green Arrow suit.”

Breath hissing, Felicity gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.  And…here came the waterworks.  No way she could stop them now. 

Oh wow. 

Oh wow oh wow oh wow.

But since Oliver, clearly, hadn’t been quiet enough, there was also the very distinctive sound of Rene bursting out laughing.  “Dude, you are _such_ a sap.”

“Shut _up_ , Rene,” Dinah growled and then there was the sound of something, a pen maybe, bouncing off his hard head.  Felicity really wished it was something harder, though.

“Oh my God, that is the most romantic thing I have _ever_ heard.” And Curtis sounded like he was about to start crying.  What was Felicity thinking?  Of course, he was crying. 

But she…Felicity, she didn’t know what to say.  There were so many things she wanted to ask…

Like, why?  When?  How long?

But none of those things the team needed to hear.  Besides, all Felicity could really manage was a half-sobbed, “ _Oliver_ …”

He shrugged, looking incredibly needy and vulnerable and rather like an overgrown labrador retriever.  Oliver wasn’t paying a speck of attention to the team, just to Felicity. 

“I just figured…just in case…I wanted to make sure it was there. Then, later…” Oliver’s voice was barely audible and Felicity really wanted to tell him he didn’t have to.  That he could tell her later, when they were alone, but…her voice wasn’t working.  “Then, it was just a way to keep you with…”

Oliver looked away and…

Aw… _frak_.  Wow, just the idea that that ring had been on Oliver’s body all this time.  With him…

Okay, so Felicity had totally been leaning toward the whole new ring, fresh start thing, but God, now…

Fuck, Moira Queen!  That was _Felicity’s_ ring now!

Felicity took Oliver’s face in her hands and made sure he was looking her directly in the eye when she told him fiercely, “I definitely want _my_ ring back!”

Oliver smiled, looking so relieved and so pleased and…he leaned forward to meet Felicity in the sweetest kiss. 

It probably would have lingered, too, if Rene, the asshole, hadn’t let out a loud wolf-whistle.  Goddamn him.  Hadn’t Felicity fired him back in the bar all those weeks ago?

But Oliver just rolled his eyes and gave Felicity one last kiss.  Then he was standing and clearing his throat, trying very hard to look like someone who hadn’t just admitted what a giant marshmallow he was.  “John, Quentin, could you two help me with my suit?”

Felicity couldn’t figure what he needed that much help with, but at this point, Oliver could have _whatever_ he wanted.  Felicity was feeling beyond indulgent.  If he needed to escape all the estrogen and try to stream a game, have at it. 

But Rene was clearly not pleased to be excluded.  “Hey, you guys are gonna leave me here with the homecoming committee?  Seriously?”

Oliver shot the shorter man a glare, obviously not at all happy with him.  “You can hang out with Slade.”

“For real?  With the frenemy-slash-felon?” Rene protested.

But Oliver just shrugged, giving Rene a not-my-problem look (and seeming to enjoy it too).

Grunting, Rene grabbed a deck of cards and stomped off the back of the room, “Hey, Wilson, you play poker?” 

And Felicity had to bite her lip, because, God, _she_ played poker.  A whole lot better than she party planned.

What she would give to join them?  It had been a long time since Felicity had gotten to hustle anyone and, damn, Slade and Rene would be a joy to fleece.

But…now… _wedding_.  Right.   Had to plan a wedding.  Very important.

Except…couldn’t they just go shopping tomorrow and figure it out then?  What was there to talk about?

Oliver turned to William and asked, “You good?”

He got another happy nod.  William was clearly enjoying his place at the table, which wasn’t hurt by the fact that Curtis was currently showing him various drone specs on his tablet. Felicity wondered how Samantha would feel about Felicity teaching William to count cards.  because, really, how long could planning take?   

Leaning down, Oliver pressed a kiss to the top of Felicity’s head, then whispered in her ear, “Don’t let Thea take over.”

Felicity smiled and nodded (though, she might secretly be planning how she could get Thea to take over so she could fleece Slade and Rene) and Oliver, John, and Quentin disappeared out the door. 

“I think I’m going to put this one down for a nap,” Lyla gestured to the semiconscious toddler in her lap.  And, yeah, Felicity was pretty sure Lyla felt the same as she did about pre-planning shopping/party planning.  JJ was just a convenient excuse to escape.  Pretty sure, Lyla had never been on the homecoming committee either.  “Then I’ll make sure I get everyone passports ready.”

Well, the last part was a _damn_ good excuse, so Felicity let her go with another, “Thank you, Lyla.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Thea turned to William and grinned.  “ _Yes_!  All the old people are gone.  William, go grab the rest of those chocolate muffins.  Oh and, Curtis, you grab that plate of cinnamon rolls too.  Chop chop, people.  We have work to do.”

Well, at least, Felicity would have plenty of sugar to see her through.

 

 

Sunset at Manila Bay as shown on Curtis’ tablet

 

_Revised 1/28/2018_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note
> 
> Hold on to your hats, guys, this is gonna be a long one.
> 
> First off, I never intended to write a wedding for (Don’t) Let Me Go.   In my first “vision,” back in May/June, the plan was to end here and then sort of summarize things in a honeymoon epilogue (remember how I said I was planning on having two epilogues).  Well, as time went on and I had more ideas about the wedding and more hype about the cannon wedding and…well, I started to change my mind.   With a lot of encouragement.   I’m looking at you Ireland1733.  (She’s preening, totally unapologetic).
> 
> Part of me wishes I’d stayed with my original plan, because I knew what would happen, knew myself, as a writer, and knew there was no way I would be able to do this simply.   I started writing the wedding chapter (yes, I was still under the delusion that I could do it in one chapter) and, suddenly, I’ve got a chapter and a half of deep conversations in the bride’s room getting ready, then another half chapter of the guys on deck.  And, then, TWO FULL chapters of a ceremony because I can't cut anything.   And, of course, I needed both povs (no real overlap, thank god.)
> 
> So, some of you may decide it’s boring as all get out, but you should feel like you are on that boat, attending their wedding.  At least, that’s the goal.  Then it’s a chapter for the honeymoon (which might become two, the scribble version is long).   And the epilogue from William’s pov (which is the chapter I’m most excited about, to be honest).
> 
> But all of this is still snuggly inside my green leatherette notebooks and it will stay there for a bit.  Sorry.  I really need the whole cannon version of this to play out before I feel like I can flesh out my version.  I would hate to be repetitive.
> 
> So this is the last chapter of (Don’t) Let Me Go, this year (don’t panic, the year’s almost over).  I’m going back to To Sacrifice the Sun, at least until Christmas. 
> 
> In fact, the new chapter of To Sacrifice the Sun was posted a few hours ago, so you can go read it right now!   If you are new to that story, be warned that the beginning is pretty painful, but I’m at the point in the story the romantic angst is at least (mostly) resolved.  It is my favorite of all my stories and the one I’m most proud of.
> 
> This posting two chapters for two different stories in one day is an experiment for me.  If it’s successful, then I hope to do it again in the new year.  And, honestly guys, the only way I know it’s successful is if you leave feedback.
> 
> Okay, so if you survived that Author’s Note (and my soapbox), I’ll wrap up by thanking my betas Fairytalehearts, Imusuallyobsessed, and Ireland1733 for all they do. 
> 
> Thank you!


	16. (The Evolution of) A Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> _(Don’t) Let Me Go_ is bac _k_ , just in time for Valentine’s day (which was totally on purpose.  I don’t know what you are talking about).  What’s more, I finished the first draft of the _entire_ story.  Yup, right through the epilogue.  I still have a daunting amount of editing to wade through, unfortunately.   I can’t definitively say how many chapters since it seems to be changing as I revise.  
> 
> Hopefully, I’ll stay motivated so I can get you these chapters weekly until its finished.  Life has been _a lot_ lately.
> 
> But before you dig in, I want to warn you that it’s going to take a few chapters before Felicity actually walks down the aisle.  I don’t skimp on the lead up (even if some of you wish I did).
> 
>  Also, after the most recent episodes of Arrow, the relationship of Oliver and Felicity with New Team Arrow _in this story_ may seem off and/or forced.  In particular (for this chapter), after the events in 6x09-13, Dinah may seem out of character.  
> 
> However, please, remember that this story is _as if Season 6 never existed_.  
> 
> Oliver leaving the team, Digg lying about an injury (or getting injured in the first place) _none_ of that happened.  Rene hasn’t betrayed anyone.  Dinah doesn’t even know Vincent is alive.    _This_ team was rescued from Lian Yu in a way that brought them together, instead of driving them apart.  
> 
> So…take a deep breath and let out all the negative feelings you may be having about Season 6 Dinah and try to remember the beautiful potential of 5B.
> 
> Thank you and happy reading.

 

“It’s… _fantastic_ ,” Dinah breathed, spreading out Felicity’s chiffon skirt.  “I honestly can’t believe we found this in less than a day.”

Felicity took a step back, trying to get as full of a view as she could in the propped-up mirror as Thea declared, “And it fits perfectly.”

Thea was standing to the side, admiring the dress with crossed arms and a smile.  One would have thought she had designed the dress herself, she looked so proud.  Not that Felicity minded.  Without Thea, there was no way Felicity would have found anything _half_ as nice.  Hell, left to her own devices they would have all been wearing slipper socks to the wedding.

Dinah shook her head, like she couldn’t quite believe it, adding, “Like it was made for you.”

And, incredibly, _it did_.  

In fact, this dress fit better than the one Felicity had ordered _specifically_ for her _,_ months ahead of time.  All they’d had to do with _this one_ was hem the bottom.  Which a lovely older woman had taken care of in the back of the bridal shop, quickly and easily, while they’d shopped for the ladies.

Even their dresses had been easy to find.  So, _soooo_ much easier than Felicity had anticipated.  So easily, in fact, that Dinah had laughed and said, ‘someone up there wants this wedding to happen.’

And, while, Felicity wasn’t going to go _that_ far, (if any one deserved credit, it was Thea and her remarkable shopping skills), it had still made her a little bit giddy.  What bride doesn’t want a ‘meant to be’ vibe around her marriage?  And her and Oliver had been throwing around the word soulmate (with remarkably little irony) quite a bit lately.

So, maybe, Felicity did think (just a little) that this wedding was happening at exactly the right place and at exactly the right time. And, maybe, that _was_ the work of a higher power.  

Felicity had always embraced the heritage part of being Jewish more than the religious part.   She was too much of a woman of science to believe in a god that was intimately involved in their lives.

But today, her wedding day, she _did_ feel like someone was watching over her.  Maybe even her grandmother and grandfather.  Sylvia and Jacob had been dead for more than half of Felicity’s life and she didn’t think about them nearly as much as she used to, but, today, she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about them.  

Maybe that was because theirs was the only example of a healthy, happy marriage Felicity known as a child.  Because thinking about starting a life with the love of her life, praying for that 50 or 60 years, she couldn’t help but remember how her grandparents had been so in love that Bubbe’s health had faded and she’d slipped away not six months after her husband had died.

At the time, in her eleven-year-old grief, the idea of a love that strong was terrifying, not something to be coveted.  But now Felicity understood.  Now she was glad that her Bubbe had been able to follow her zayde so soon after he’d died, because she knew that living without your love was so much scarier than dying.

Loving this way was still terrifying, but now that Felicity had experienced it, she couldn’t live without it.  So, yes, it gave her such comfort to think of Grandma Sylvia, watching over her and easing her way.  Especially, on a day when she was missing her mother so much and…

Felicity was _really_ trying not to think about that.

Better to think of the things that were going _right_. It happened so rarely in their lives that Felicity was determined to enjoy it.  

And things had been going right for her from the moment Felicity had stepped into Oliver’s arms in that cave below the blackened shell of Lian Yu.  The engagement, things with William and Samantha, even the shopping…all going so incredibly right.  

Felicity just hoped her luck would hold for a little longer.  To get them through the honeymoon and settled back in Star City…no, that was greedy.  All she needed was _one_ more day.

Please God…or Bubbe…zayde… _anyone_ watching out for her.  For _them_.  Just _one_ day.  It didn’t need to be perfect.  But if it could go as well as the last few days Felicity would be eternally grateful.

Yesterday could have been a giant headache, but it had all fallen together.  They’d even been back in time for her to trounce the boys at poker.  And, truly, there were few thrills in life as good as wiping the floor with Mr. Terrific, Wild Dog and fraking _Deathstroke_ at cards.  Well, except marrying the love of her life.  

Which Felicity was doing in…just over an hour.  So soon it made her heart flutter and her palms sweat.  And yet enough time to drive herself nuts.

So, yeah…getting ready.  Making sure everything was as perfect as it could be.  That was what Felicity was supposed to be doing.  She should get on that.  

Smoothing down the dress, Felicity turned, examining it from every angle.

Felicity had gone into their shopping spree dreading it.  Dress shopping had been more a chore than a joy when she’d gone with her mother (of course, being in a wheelchair at the time was enough to land anyone in tears), but how could finding a dress and _everything_ else, in _one_ day, be anything but stressful and frustrating?

Yet, the only thing that had been even slightly stressful was getting a set of her prescription contacts before the wedding.  Because no matter how much Thea assured her that Oliver would love it if Felicity wore her glasses down the aisle, it just…it was _not_ the look she was going for.   

Felicity _actually_ considered going blind if the contacts didn’t get there in time, which she knew was insanely vain and even more stupid, to put the way she looked over safety, especially given she was getting married on a ship _without sides._

And wouldn’t it just be _classic_ Felicity Smoak, to accidentally trip and fall into the ocean on her wedding day?  Bubbe might be watching over her, but she could only do so much.

Thankfully, Felicity’s contacts arrived an hour ago, making the glasses/no glasses debate unnecessary.  She should have trusted Lyla’s ARGUS connections and avoided the internal freak-out.  Of _course_ , a super-secret international spy group had a guy in every port who make contact lenses in any prescription or color in less than 24 hours.  Duh.  Why wouldn’t they?

And now, here they were, in the captain’s spacious quarters, which he had graciously lent for the bride to get ready, staring in an enormous mirror, (one that she had a sneaking suspicion Rene and Curtis had removed from the crew’s bathroom wall) and…Felicity _still_ couldn’t believe how it had all come together.  How it _was_ coming together.  She’d pinch herself if she wasn’t worried that a bruise would ruin the effect she was going for.

Felicity looked at the two women smiling next to her and…wow, even _that_ was surreal.  It felt so weird (in a good way) to be standing there with a… _bridal party_.  

If she was completely honest with herself, Felicity hadn’t had a really _close_ girl friend in a long time.  Not since she’d decided to skip middle school all together and Anna Berkowitz had never forgiven her for leaving her behind in the “regular” smart classes.  (Maybe, that was why the idea of Helix and Alena had been so seductive).

So, when Felicity was planning her wedding, last year, nothing had been more stressful than the idea of choosing and, worse, asking _bridesmaids._  

Felicity had considered about getting one of her guy friends, Curtis or Cisco, to be _man_ of honor, calling it progressive, and being done with it.  She didn’t need a whole entourage of woman walking down the aisle.

But Felicity hadn’t been as close to Curtis then as she was now and it was probably insulting to ask Cisco, instead of Caitlin, since they were equally close. Well, Felicity had thought they were until Cait had gotten metahuman powers and not told her about.  Which was exactly Felicity’s point about not being good with the whole girlfriend thing.  

John would have been the perfect man of honor.   _If_ he weren’t already Oliver’s best man and Felicity hadn’t want to interfere with that.  It meant too much to Oliver and there were so few people he was close to as well.   

Felicity had even suggested to her mother that, maybe, _she_ could be her matron of honor.  But, while Donna had cried and told her she was honored, her mom had _insisted_ that she was going to walk he daughter down the aisle like good Jewish mother.  For an open-minded person, it was amazing how stuck her mother got on ‘the way it was done’.

In fact, Donna had _insisted_ on the whole bridal party thing.  Unfortunately.  She didn’t believe her when Felicity had tried to explain she wasn’t sure who to ask.  What she hadn’t told her mom was that finding bridesmaids made her feel like she was still that eleven-year-old freshman in high school, eating lunch alone in the library.  

It was the same old issue that kept coming up.  If Felicity had just explained how insecure it had made her feel, her mother may have handled it differently.  But she’d kept it close to her chest, inside her little pistachio shell and…asked Caitlin to be her maid of honor.  (It was preferable to admitting she still occasionally felt like a social outcast).

Caitlin seemed thrilled and so very sweet Felicity had always thought that they could have been really close if they lived in the same city, or even had more time to talk.  (Though Felicity had rethought that since the whole Killer Frost thing).  

Then Felicity needed bridesmaids.  Her mom insisted.  God, Donna could be so difficult.  So Felicity traded out the tacky-ass three feet high centerpieces and gave into the bridesmaids thing.  Besides, Thea really needed to be in the wedding and…Laurel.

Oh God, Laurel.  

Felicity took a deep breath in her nose and out again.  Was it strange that, other than her mother, Felicity missed Laurel the most this day?   

At first, Felicity had thought it would be pretty damn awkward asking her fiancé’s ex-girlfriend (the ex that so many people had assumed Oliver would _eventually_ marry) to be in her wedding and she’d wondered if it was putting Laurel in a weird position by asking.  But… _not asking_ had seemed even worse.  (See, this whole bridal party thing was an emotional landmine waiting to happen).

But Felicity and Laurel had been _friends_ , moving towards close during all those horrible months between Oliver first almost getting himself killed on that mountain and joining the League.

But then Felicity and Oliver ran away together and they’d barely had time for goodbyes and...

When Laurel walked into their (disgustingly) perfect suburban house in Ivy Town, Felicity knew things had changed.  Laurel never said, but Felicity saw her looking around the house and she could only imagine that she was seeing the dreams she’d had for her and Oliver being played out with another woman.

Felicity could only imagine, if the situations had been reversed, how painful it would have been for her.  But Laurel had been nothing but supportive of Oliver and Felicity’s relationship.  She’d beamed and clapped when they had gotten engaged, had sat at her bedside when Felicity was shot, and when she’d asked her to be in the wedding, Laurel had smiled and hugged her and been genuinely pleased (Felicity was certain it was genuine.  Laurel was a terrible liar).

And Laurel had looked beautiful in the long, clingy, red dress they’d picked.  Donna had said it was too late in the season for red.  It was a spring wedding and she needed to pick a pastel.  But Felicity _loved_ red.  Red had _meaning_ for her and Oliver, and every one of the girls had looked beautiful in it.   _Especially_ Laurel.

Felicity and Laurel had a fourth red dress made.  On the off-chance Sara got the message and was able to make it back for the wedding.

They would never know.

And now…well, as soon as the word bridesmaid came up, Felicity had felt that old familiar anxiety rising up from her stomach.  That flashback to ninth grade.  

Initially, Felicity dealt with it the way she had wanted to in the _first_ place. By _not_ dealing with it. The guest list barely topped a dozen (which she loved, btw).  All she needed was someone to stand up for her and Thea had agreed to do that.  Her and Thea had gotten much closer over this last year.  Thank goodness.  And it felt right.  

When the four women had broken off from the guys to go shopping together, Felicity had figured that Dinah, Thea, and Lyla would help her pick out her dress and then pick anything they had wanted for themselves.  Even if she wanted them all to be in the wedding, how could they possibly find bridesmaids dresses, off the rack, in their size, that _didn’t_ look like crap? In _one_ day?

But the bridal salon Thea had found, where Felicity had found her own dress…they had a whole rack of these short green silk dresses, the styles slightly different, but the color, fabric, and length the same.  It had felt like…destiny or…Grandma Sylvia calling in a favor, who the hell knew.  But looking at those dresses… Felicity had been possessed by that sentimental emotional _demon_ that had been following her around since she’d gotten engaged and she had declared that _both_ Lyla and Dinah _had_ to be her bridesmaids.

She was almost glad that Nyssa hadn’t been with them, because the mood she’d been in, Felicity had no doubt she would have asked her to and…yeah, _that_ would have been _way_ too weird.  Even for them.  

Thankfully, Lyla and Dinah had seemed as caught up with the wedding demon as Felicity was and agreed without argument.  All three women had been able to find a dress that suited them perfectly.  Felicity was sure it helped that all three were also leggy, gorgeous brunettes, who wore small, off-the-rack sizes.

It was surprising how natural it felt to have these three women supporting her.   _Especially_ Dinah.  They had never really spent any one-on-one time together…well, she was sure they _had_ at _some point_ in the bunker been technically alone, but nothing that stood out.  They’d _hung out_ , never spoken about anything personal until recently.

But, like Laurel and Sara and Thea…even if they didn’t spend their _rare_ free time together, they saw each other every day.  They were more than just colleagues, more than work friends even.  They had their _lives_ in each other’s hands.  They were a _team_.  If they didn’t work together seamlessly, someone was going to get killed.  They had to trust each other.

So, really, even if they _didn’t_ have coffee dates and mani-pedis, they _were_ close.  In a way most people couldn’t even understand.  Being a member of Team Arrow didn’t mean that they were all _friends_ , but it _did_ mean they were family.

That was probably why it felt so good to have Dinah with her and Thea now, this whole experience bringing them closer.  And, also, why Felicity missed Laurel so much today.

“Whoa!  You’re frowning!   _No_ frowning,” Thea squeaked pulling Felicity out of her thoughts.  “No frowning!  It will ruin your perfect makeup.”

Felicity sent Thea an amused _look_ in the mirror. “Pretty sure smiling is worse for makeup than frowning,” she pointed out, trying to inject some humor, because while she was happy, the air around her just felt _heavy._ And if she kept skipping down this mental path she might just cry and that would ruin her makeup.

Thea ignored Felicity’s attempt and grabbed her shoulders, squaring them so they were both looking directly into the mirror.  “Don’t tell me you second guessing the dress _again_?  You look _perfect_.  So, _so_ perfect.”

She hadn’t been.  Not at _all_ , but…Felicity blew out a breath and smoothed her hands down her waist.

“I do wonder if I decided too quickly.”  It was a silly, minor worry, but Felicity really didn’t want to talk about the people who weren’t there.   _Especially_ the ones that were lost and never could be.  This was safer.  “Maybe, we should have gone to another store.”

A small part of her (a _very_ small part) worried that she had settled and convinced herself this was _the_ dress, just so didn’t have to go to more bridal shops.  It did seem a little too good to be true that they had gotten _everyone’s_ gown in the first (and only) shop they had gone to.  In fact, this was the first dress Felicity had tried on.  

She’d loved it instantly.

She thought.  Because, maybe, Felicity was just so surprised that she found something nice...so relieved, that she _thought_ she loved it.  It was certainly nothing like what she had imagined…during the whole _twelve hours_ she’d had time to think about it.  

“ _Felicity_ ,” Dinah said, in a firm reasonable tone, pulling her out of that neurotic brain spiral.  Felicity envied that sometimes, her steady leve lheadedness.  “You tried on a half-dozen dresses _after_ this one and immediately rejected them.  Because they weren’t _this_ dress.  You had a mystical _Say-Yes-To-The-Dress_ moment, don’t fight it.”

Both Felicity’s and Thea’s eye flew to Dinah’s, wide and incredulous, because…huh?

“You watch _Say Yes to the Dress_?”   Thea gapped at Dinah and, yup, that had been Felicity’s thought exactly.  Of all the woman she knew, Dinah was the last person she saw spending a Sunday indulging in TLC reality trash TV (though, granted _Say Yes to the Dress_ was one of the least trashy).

Dinah shrugged, completely unapologetic of her tv choices (and Felicity respected that).  “Who hasn’t indulged in the occasional late-night marathon?  It great for insomnia.”

Felicity had to give her that one.  That was pretty much her excuse as well.

Then Dinah leaned in and put her chin on Felicity’s shoulder, careful to stay away from her white sleeves.  It was a new intimacy for them.  Dinah would have never done it before Lian Yu, but it felt… _good_.  “And not even Randy Fenoli could have chosen a better dress for you,” Dinah said, a mischievous look on her face.

Laughing out loud, Felicity shook her head.  It seemed Dinah either had as bad insomnia as Oliver or she was a secret fangirl, because Felicity didn’t even think Curtis could have pulled that guys last name out of thin air.  (What was she thinking?  Of _course,_ Curtis could have.)

But _the dress_ …Felicity bit her lip and indulged in that super girly thing of picking up the skirt and holding it out wide.  The clingy white chiffon shimmered in the light…it _was_ beautiful.

Yesterday morning, Felicity had thought they would be lucky to find a flattering white sundress.  Something short and simple.  Casual.   She’d even argued with Thea against _going_ to a bridal salon, thinking a department store or boutique would be a better use of their time.

But Felicity was woman enough to admit she’d been wrong.  She’d never question Thea’s shopping instincts again.  

The dress wrapped in the front, hugging Felicity’s waist and bodice, emphasizing her waist and, somehow, making her look hourglass shaped and not the pear-shaped she was.  Then the skirt just _flowed_ …falling loosely to the floor in what felt like miles of breezy chiffon that was so light and airy Felicity felt like she could float.

There was no underskirt.  No crinoline or tulle (like her first dress had needed) that made the dress bell out in a princess style.  And, God, Felicity was grateful for _that_.  Especially in the warm weather.  

Compared to all the intricate beading on Felicity’s first dress, this was almost simple.  The only lace and beading was on the small loose cap sleeves and framing the back of the dress, where it dipped low in the back.  It was actually a large oval cut out, but with her hair down, it looked like the dress was held up by magic.

Felicity had been adamant about avoiding a sleeveless dress, she didn’t think she had the chest for it and had argued that fact with her mother last year (everyone had assured her that the final fitting would have fixed this issue, but they’d never gotten that far).  These sleeves did little to keep the dress up, but with the hidden fastening on her upper back and the way the chiffon hugged her…it fit so well that it wasn’t an issue.

Never in a million years would Felicity have imagined this dress.  Or picked it out of a magazine.  But it felt _right_.

Just like Oliver.

Never in a…trillion… _gazillion_ years, never in the entire multiverse would she have imagined that her, _Felicity Smoak_ , would be marrying _Oliver Queen_ , of all people.  Unthinkable.  

Yet, here they were.  And they fit together so perfectly it… _had_ to be fate.  Didn’t it?  There was no other explanation.

“The dress is perfect for a tropical wedding,” Felicity finally said, realizing that her friends were waiting for her assurance that she _was_ happy with the dress.  And her other thoughts, well, they felt like… _too much_ to say aloud.  To anyone but Oliver, anyway.

“It does make me wish that Captain Mitchell were able to perform the wedding on the beach,” Thea bemoaned, fingering Felicity’s skirt.  None of them seemed to be able to keep their hands off the soft, gauzy fabric.  “This would have looked so perfect on the beach.”

But Dinah scrunched up her face and shook her head.  “She would have gotten sand all over the hem.”  

“And I couldn’t wear the shoes,” Felicity added, feeling a ridiculously giddy little rush as she mentioned them.  Because, _good God_ , she _loved_ the shoes.  They had all the sparkle that the dress lacked.  Glittering and strappy and 4 ½ inches high, they cost far more than no-longer-billionaires should spend. She simultaneously never wanted to take them off and couldn’t _wait_ for Oliver to peel them off her feet, to soothe the ridges left behind.  “Besides, without the shoes, I’m too short—”

“You are _not_ too short for the dress,” Dinah and Thea repeated together.  Again.  

Okay, so…maybe Felicity had mentioned that one too many times.  It was irrelevant now, anyway.  Even if she was too short without the 4 1/2-inch heels, she wasn’t taking the gorgeous things off until crossed the threshold of her hotel suite at the Manila Grand they had booked for their wedding night (preferably being carried by her oh-so-capable new husband).

Dinah put her arm around Felicity’s shoulders, grasping them in a way that made Felicity wonder if she wanted to shake her.  “Jeez, Felicity, since when are you so insecure about your appearance?”

“I’m not,” came the automatic (and only slightly defensive) reply.  

Because, in reality, Felicity had been busy imagining Oliver carry her bridal-style…’cause that was what she was…his _bride_ …

Barely holding in a happy sigh, Felicity met Dinah’s concerned gaze in the mirror.  “I’m very happy with my appearance.”  How to explain she hadn’t been insecure about _that_ in years?  But then she gulped.  Because she was starting to learn that weddings could resurrect old issues.  “ _Generally_.  Today is…”

Before Felicity could figure out how to end that sentence, Dinah’s grip loosened.  Her face became more sympathetic as she said, “It’s completely understandable if you’re nervous.”

“No, it’s not,” Thea threw out with a playful grin.  “You are marrying my brother, you are not allowed to have any reservations.  No, _wait_ …” Thea tapped her chin and paused dramatically. “Okay…strike that.  All reservations are understandable.”

Felicity laughed.  Sometimes it struck Felicity how very… _sibling_ Thea and Oliver were.  Despite their huge age difference.  

“No _reservations_ ,” Felicity was able to assure. With _complete_ confidence.  But… _was_ she nervous?

There was this fluttery, butterfly feeling in her stomach.  And the tumbling thoughts and random obsessing over what was probably insignificant details certainly pointed to nerves, yet…when Felicity thought about Oliver…

“And I’m not nervous about marrying Oliver.”  There was only excitement and anticipation.  Felicity couldn’t _wait_ to be his wife, for him to be her husband.

“There’s the smile we’ve been waiting for,” Thea sighed, grinning almost dreamily herself.

“I don’t think she’ll have any problems finding that smile once she sees Oliver,” Dinah argued, her eyes crinkling with her own smile.

“Ollie is going to _die_ when he sees you!” Thea agreed, sounding almost as giddy.  In fact, she looked like she wanted to clap at the idea.  “Of course, he’d be happy if you wore a paper bag.” She earned a side-eye from Dinah at that one.  “ _But_ …” Thea wrapped her arm around Felicity’s waist.  “If you get nervous, just imagine Ollie’s face as you walk toward him and the breeze catches the skirt and he sees those shoes and that _leg_ —”

The slit.  It was possibly Felicity’s favorite thing about the dress.  It went all the way up to her mid right thigh, but there was enough of the light material that it would only be seen if… _when_ the ocean breeze caught it as she was walking down the aisle.  

“Oliver’s going to swallow his _tongue_ ,” Dinah finished.

And, yeah, that was the idea.

“He really will, won’t he?” Felicity whispered, imagining the way his eyes would darken, how his fingers would rub together.  Why had she wanted to wait for sunset?  They could be getting married _right now_.  They could be _married_ already, moving on to far more pleasurable things.

“Oh, yes. Ollie’s face will be priceless,” Thea said with great relish (making Felicity wonder if she was _hoping_ it would be extra embarrassing).  “And we had _better_ get a photo of it.  I’m not so sure about this Samantha being the photographer thing.”

There was an edge to her tone that had Felicity…kinda confused.  Turning to Thea, she studied her.  “I thought you liked Samantha.”  Thea had been the first one to comfort her on the island and never showed a single sign of… _dis_ liking her.

Well, until now.  The face Thea was making showed more than dislike.  It showed distrust and resentment.  Wow, Thea really was the best actress among them.  But Felicity had known that. She’d never known anyone better at putting on a happy face and seeming to be in a good mood while she…was slowly dying inside.  

“You always seemed very understanding,” Felicity pressed, because even knowing this about Thea, it felt weird that Thea hadn’t shown any indication of bitterness or dislike until now.   

Thea opened her mouth and closed it twice.  Felicity studied her eyes, becoming even more confused at the flash of guilt and, almost, panic she read in their hazel depths.  

“I am…sometimes.” Thea shook her head, like she wanted to shake the question away.  Why would this subject bother her so much?  “I mean, growing up as a Queen I understand a mother not wanting her kid to have anything to do with us, _but_ …on the other hand, Samantha’s history doesn’t exactly make me feel confident in her loyalty.” Thea shrugged, trying to pass it off as no big deal, but were now crossed tightly.  “So, I guess, I’m a little bipolar on the subject.”

But the weird part was…Thea looked a _lot_ more upset than she should be.  It was obvious (to Felicity anyway) that Thea was trying to go back to that easy, breezy, cheerfulness of a few minutes ago, but…she couldn’t quite seem to manage it.

Was it because the Samantha situation reminded Thea of her own mother?  Her absence was probably weighing on _both_ her and Oliver today.  Or was it the fear that Samantha would take William away again and they’d lose more family?  Because _that_ was happening over Felicity’s dead body.

It couldn’t possibly just be worry over wedding pictures.  Could it?  Rich people were weird about things like that.  

“I’m not worried about the pictures,” Felicity told Thea in her most assured voice, trying to pass along her confidence.  It was, seriously, the _least_ of her worries.  “I’m pretty sure Samantha is trying to appease her guilty conscious over the part she played in our break-up.”  And Samantha seemed the type who’d rather cut off her own nose than be accused of something as petty as sabotaging her Baby Daddy’s wedding pictures.  “Besides, Curtis says that he has a backup plan.”

Just in case Samantha wasn’t all that great a photographer after all.  And if Curtis said he had it covered, Felicity had complete faith that it was.  Of course, Felicity would have been happy with a couple good shots on their cell phones.

“Uh…” Dinah made a face.  “What does that mean?  Because if Curtis has T-spheres floating around, getting in our faces during the ceremony…I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Felicity grimaced.  Yeah…she hadn’t considered that.  There was a good chance that was exactly what Curtis had planned.  “I’m sure they won’t be _in_ our faces…” Actually, the more Felicity thought about it…it could be kinda cool.  A very high tech, very merry Team Arrow wedding.  “And, besides, if he does, at least we’ll be prepared.  You know, if anything goes wrong.”

Wow, where had _that_ come from?

“Like what?” Thea questioned, sounding genuinely confused.  Which was weird, because shouldn’t _Thea_ of all people be aware things could go wrong at any moment?  

“Oh, I don’t know.  It just seems like it would be just our luck if the wedding were crashed by…” Felicity paused as she tried to think of who might hate them enough to attack their wedding.  Ironically, the only big bad still alive was now part of the wedding party.  “An old enemy, maybe, someone from Oliver’s past. A metahuman.  Aliens.  Doppelgangers.  Ex-girlfriends…”

Dinah chuckled, but…oh _God_ , had Felicity been subconsciously worrying that their wedding was going to get crashed?  By someone a whole lot worse than Cupid?  Well, it sure as hell wasn’t subconscious _now_.  And wouldn’t it just be _typical_ if their wedding turned into some epic battle.

Frak.

Okay Felicity was starting to feel a genuine freak out coming on.  Clearly this was why her brain had tried to keep this _sub_ conscious and…

Thea took her shoulders spun her around, until she could look her in the eye. “Felicity, even if I _could_ think of a single enemy who isn’t dead or in a super-secret prison, we are on the other side of the _world_.  No one knows where we are.”

“On a fully armed, fully staffed aircraft carrier,” Dinah added, with just a smidge of ‘duh’ in her voice.  “You’ll be walking down the aisle in front of _fighter jets_.  Even if there was someone out there stupid enough to attack us, I don’t like their chances.”

Felicity laughed, a shocked sound that burst out involuntarily, but she felt her shoulders relax.  She hadn’t thought of it like that, but… _thank God_.  “I guess we couldn’t have picked a more secure site.”  Yay, for spontaneity.

“And if you are worried about being married on a _boat_ …and trust me the irony of Ollie getting married in the fricken South Pacific has _not_ escaped me,” Thea said.

And it triggered a small, slightly hysterical, giggle to emerge from Felicity’s throat, because, oh…my… _God_ …why hadn’t _she_ thought of that?  Even though an aircraft carrier was hardly a _boat_.  But however ever they classified this ship…Oliver still had nightmares from the night the Gambit sank, what kind of fiancé was she that she hadn’t even asked him if she was okay with being married on it?

“ _But_ ,” Thea continued, her eyes boring into Felicity’s, as if she could see the track her mind was taking, “even if this monstrosity _were_ sinkable, we’re in port.  We could _swim_ to shore.  Hell, this thing is so massive, I wouldn’t be surprised if at low tide it touches the bottom of the bay.”

And that just made Felicity laugh again, because…she was overreacting.  They were in a bay, not an ocean.  On a massive naval ship and not a small yacht.  The weather was beautiful and…if Oliver was upset about being married on ship, she really didn’t think he would, or _could_ hide that from her.

“So, _relax_ …” Thea insisted.  “You are safer than you have ever been.   _Ever_.  You are marrying your fricken _soulmate_ and you look so heartbreakingly beautiful.”

Thea was an _excellent_ maid of honor.  Felicity was very lucky how this had all come together.

All she could do, then, was smile, caught between the urge to laugh and to cry as Thea arranged the curls around her face, before turning to face herself in the mirror.

She really _did_ look beautiful.  

_But_ …Felicity reached up to touch the loose curls on the shoulders.  “It’s not too late to put my hair up—”

“ _Felicity_!”

This time their combined reprimand made Felicity jump. Wow, Dinah’s voice was powerful even _without_ the Canary Cry.

“It looks _perfect_!” Thea insisted and Felicity almost worried that her neuroticism was getting to be too much for them.  Maybe, she shouldn’t have gotten ready yet.  Too much waiting was driving her insane.  “Besides, you can’t disappoint William by getting rid of the flower crown.”  

“I _love_ the crown.  I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of it,” Felicity assured them quickly, her hand instinctively going to the wreath as if she had to protect it.

The fact that William had cared enough to pick out the flowers and help weave it together to make Felicity this beautiful headpiece…it just made her so emotional.  She didn’t want to think about it too much or she would start crying.

And thing was, the kid must have an artistic eye or something, because it was _gorgeous_.  It was modern and different enough to suit Felicity’s personality.  Tightly woven greenery lay over her the top of her head like a headband, then it tapered to incorporate jasmine before two large open white roses completed it at its base.

Yet, _again_ , it was something Felicity would have never _thought_ to want.  And more perfect than anything she could imagine.  

“The crown is non-negotiable,” Felicity whispered, her voice thick.

Dinah grinned, saying, “Every Queen needs her crown.”

It made Felicity chuckle.  Maybe, it was even _more_ perfect than she’d thought.

“Oh, Felicity is keeping her maiden name,” Thea said, breezily, almost _too_ breezily, as she started rearranging Felicity’s curls again (completely unnecessarily), avoiding eye contact.

It made Felicity feel even better about the decision she’d come to and discussed with Oliver the night before.  

“I’ve changed my mind, actually,” Felicity said just as breezily (and just as feigned), watching Thea out of the corner of her eye.

The younger girl froze, her eyes jumping to hers.  “You’re going to hyphenate after all?”

The corners of Felicity’s lips twitched.  “No…I think I’m just going to go with a simple, ‘Felicity Queen.’” She spread her hands out as if she were picturing her name on a door and…

Thea’s eyes lit up almost as much an Oliver’s had when Felicity had told him last night, which was almost surprising.  Felicity could imagine Moira caring about her taking the ‘Queen’ name, but now it was clear that Thea did as well.

It was amazing, after everything, how much the name meant to them.  All the unwanted expectations.  All the _complicated_ parenting and…they’d handled the loss of property and fortune with grace, but the _name_ …it was still important.  To _both_ Thea and Oliver.

More important than ‘Smoak’ was to her.  It wouldn’t even be the first time Felicity changed her name.  She had been Felicity Kuttler until she was seven and they had moved in with her grandparents.  

God, Felicity had been _furious_ at her mother for the change (back then she still thought her father would come back), but Zayde Jacob had sat her down and explained that where he was from the surname wasn’t important.   It was something forced upon their Jewish ancestors.  Something they had taken on to survive.  

It was why, when her grandparents had escaped to America in the months following the war and he realized that Jake Smoak was much more likely to be hired than Jacob Smoleck, he’d had no hesitation in changing _his_ name.  It was the same practical resourcefulness that allowed him to survive the Holocaust.  

Jacob and Sylvia had meant the world to Felicity, but she really didn’t think the name Smoak meant all that much to either of them.  Not like it meant to the Queens.  And when she had explained all this to Oliver last night, he’d shyly suggested they incorporate her grandparents _first_ names into their children’s…God _their children_ …and _that_ had felt so very right.

“Keeping my name was mostly a professional decision,” Felicity explained, going with the practical reasons, instead of the sentimental.  She’d learned a lot from zayde.  “I thought it would be a good idea for Palmer Tech’s CEO to keep the same name.  You know, give an unstable company the appearance of stability.”  At least that was what she told herself at the time, now she wasn’t so sure.  “But since that plan was thrown out the window when they fired me…”

The girls bracketing her had serious faces now.  Great, now they were feeling sorry for her.  And all because she hadn’t wanted to say…she really didn’t want to tell them she what had only recently realized.  Felicity hadn’t wanted to change her name because...

Well, because changing her name terrified her.  Not because of her heritage.  Because…it had felt so _final_.  Like Felicity was willingly giving away her identity, who _she was_.  To become a wife.

Which was ridiculous.  Oliver never asked or _wanted_ that of her.  It had taken Felicity far too long to recognize he loved her as she was, _for_ all those things she was afraid of losing.  He did nothing but support and bolster her strength and independence.  

Felicity didn’t need the artificial barrier of a different name between her and her new husband.  She didn’t need any barriers at _all_.  Lots of women had excellent reasons for keeping their name when they married.  But, now, for _her,_ it felt important that they have the _same_ last name.

They found themselves in each other. Felicity wasn’t losing anything.  She was _gaining_.  Getting married to Oliver could only make her… _more_.

“ _And_ …” Felicity grinned, deciding, rather impulsively, to share something she _hadn’t_ discussed with Oliver yet.  Something that had her humming with excitement.  “My non-compete clause from Palmer Tech expires in a couple weeks, so I can work on starting my own company.”  She was so tired of answering to a bunch of mindless, soulless suits.  It was time to write her own destiny.

This time when Thea gave Felicity an encouraging smile, there was a sad edge.  “You could still keep ‘Smoak.’  Smoak Technologies has a nice ring to it.”

That Thea was suggesting, this when it was clearly the _opposite_ of what she wanted for herself, made Felicity even more emotional.  “Don’t tell Oliver, yet.  I want to surprise him, but…I was thinking…Queen Innovations _._ Maybe, eventually, Queen Incorporated.” Thea drew in her breath and Felicity smiled, trying not to get choked up. “The Queen name will help us take off.  But not too much.  Not planning to have it traded publicly for a good, long time.”  

Like never, maybe.  After losing QC, Felicity really didn’t have any desire for the shares of a company _she_ started to be owned by anyone she didn’t trust.

“ _Felicity_ …”  

Oops.  Now it looked like Thea was going to cry.

“Well, _I_ think your future stepson will be thrilled that he was crowning an actual Queen,” Dinah threw in, saving the day, because if Thea started crying Felicity was done for.  “Because I don’t believe for one minute that this piece of art…” she touched it on Felicity’s head, making sure the wreath was secure, “is Curtis’ doing.  The man has no subtlety.  Now _that_ …”   Dinah pointed to Felicity’s elaborate wedding bouquet.

It was complete with blue orchids, green lilies and white roses.  It had even sported peacock feathers until Felicity made Curtis pull them out.  Really, he was worse than her mother.

But the dig got a laugh from Thea and that was exactly what Felicity needed.  “Who knew ten-year-old boys cared so much about flowers?” she joked and that’s when Felicity knew they had moved past that mini-emotional crisis.  “But it’s kinda awesome.  Good for Samantha.  Dad would never have allowed Ollie to make a floral wreath and look where that got him.”

Felicity tried not to wince.  Thankfully, Oliver wasn’t following in his father’s footsteps with that one.  He’d been thrilled when he found out that William was working with Curtis on the flower arrangements.  “I think it’s great.  Even if I don’t want to know how William and Curtis got the flowers through customs and onto the ship.”  

Yup, William hadn’t been part of this family for a full week and _already_ he was breaking international law.  That part was less great.

But William’s crown aside…tipping her head to the side, Felicity studied herself in the mirror.  Gathering up the curls, she held them off her shoulders.  “I could still put it up.   _With_ the head piece.  Do you think that is more… _me_?”

“Uuugh!” Thea threw her head back in frustration and Felicity thought, maybe, she’d gone too far.  Thea stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the mirror and cupping her face.  “ _Listen_ to me.  You.  Look.   _Beautiful_.  The sleek updo may be very Overwatch, or Felicity Smoak the CEO…or even _Felicity Queen_ tech mogul and mayor’s wife…”

Felicity let out a soft laugh at that and, unfortunately, she could hear the tears in it.  She _really_ liked the sound of that.

“But _this_ Felicity…with her hair all down and soft, the curls… _this_ is vacation Felicity.  Day-off Felicity.  This is _Oliver’s_ Felicity…”

“Okay, you’d better stop,” Felicity warned with more watery laughter.  “You are just _determined_ to make me cry and ruin my makeup, aren’t you?”

“Of course not,” Thea scoffed, but Felicity was pretty sure she saw tears in her eyes too.  “As if I wouldn’t make _sure_ your…well, _all of our_ makeup was waterproof.”

The thing Felicity could think to say…or _do_ was pull Thea into a tight hug, rocking her, and making her feel a little bit like she was turning into her mom.  And for maybe the first time, she didn’t think that was a bad thing.

When they finally pulled back, Dinah said, “So, now that we have finally agreed that you aren’t changing _anything_ …how about I go check on the boys and report back on how adorably nervous Oliver is?”

All the air left Felicity’s lungs and she smiled. “That would be _great_ , Dinah.”  

She would feel so much better if she knew what was going on.  Felicity didn’t do well with waiting, especially without constant communication.  She’d spent too much time with a comm in her ear.

Maybe Felicity should have suggested to Oliver that they use them today.  It might not be tradition, but it certainly would be fitting.

“I won’t be long.” Dinah squeezed Felicity’s hand and disappeared out of the door, her skirt swishing and her heels clicking on the tile floors.

Blowing out another breath, Felicity pulled over a chair to sit in front of the mirror (no use getting her feet tired by standing in these heels before the wedding even began) and grabbed a tissue, leaning forward to delicately dab her eyes.  Great makeup or not, she really didn’t want to risk it.

“Do you want me to give you a touch up?” Thea asked softly, and Felicity looked up at her and smiled gratefully.  

Thea smiled back as she gathered up her powder and brush.  They were silent for a moment while she worked.  Felicity didn’t usually love other people doing her makeup, but…let’s be honest, Thea was a whole lot more relaxing than her mom.  And a lot more trustworthy with a cosmetic brush.  

It was only a few minutes before Thea stood, stepping back and announcing, “There you go.  Perfect again.”

“Thank you,” Felicity beamed up at her and grabbed her hand.  “You are really an excellent maid of honor.”  

The side of Thea’s lip quirked up in a half-smile that…was so like Oliver it almost took her breath away.  But the problem was, Felicity knew that smile well.  That was the self-deprecating smile.  

Thea gave a one shoulder shrug, her arms once again winding around her middle. “I’m sorry Caitlin couldn’t be here for you.  You should’ve had the maid of honor you chose.”

That took Felicity off guard and felt just the tiny bit like a kick in the gut.  Just like her brother, it was so easy to forget that under their self-assured veneer, the Queen siblings had deep seated self-esteem issues.  And, now, Felicity really, _really_ wished that she had asked Thea to be her maid of honor the last time.

“Hey,” Felicity reached out and took Thea’s hands back, having to pull them from the tight hold they had on her waist to do so, but she managed to turn the younger girl to face her.  “I am _so_ glad that you are standing up for me.”  

But when Thea _still_ seemed to be having trouble meeting her eyes. Felicity made a decision and confessed, “I would have asked you last time, but I was afraid you were going to ask me, ‘Don’t you have any closer friends than me?’  Which would have been kind of humiliating since, you know…I kinda sorta didn’t.”

And Felicity _had_ seriously considered having Thea as her maid of honor, before she decided to ask Caitlin.  And she knew she would have said ‘yes.’  She just really didn’t want her to say ‘yes,’ because it was her brothers wedding and she felt sorry for Felicity.  And, maybe, Felicity didn’t want to admit to her super-sophisticates, undoubtedly popular future sister-in-law that she really didn’t have any close girl friends.

It was just a little humiliating to admit, but, at least, it got Thea to look her in the eye.  In fact, she looked completely shocked by her revelation.  “ _Seriously_?”

Felicity screwed up her lips and nodded.  God, she hated this.  The only thing worse than being pathetic was people _knowing_ she was pathetic.  

“But you and Caitlin…aren’t you super close?  I thought she was your best friend…well, after Ollie and Digg and Curtis…well, your _female_ best friend…”  And now Thea (always-in-control _Thea_ ) seemed to be rambling and Felicity had had never seen her babble before.

Was it contagious?  Or was Felicity just seeing Thea without her protective shields up for the first time?  The last thought almost made Felicity choke up.

It also made it easier to say, “Caitlin and I…we’re friends.  Just not…”  God, how to even say this.   “Not as close I’d like.  Maybe, if we lived in the same city and weren’t so busy and…” And weren’t so wrapped up in their own personal tragedies.  “We’re not…say, first person you call when you discover you’re a _metahuman_ friends.”

Of course, it had fallen to Oliver to tell Caitlin about Felicity’s paralysis and she’d told Caitlin the wedding was off over text, so…maybe, this was a pot-kettle situation.  Felicity was great at being there for her friends, less so about letting them be there for her.  Being vulnerable wasn’t something she had ever been good at.

But, maybe, it was time to change that.  Ignoring the look of concern in Thea’s eyes, Felicity took a deep breath and stepped into the breach.   “Actually, I think you and I are closer _now_ , than Caitlin and I ever were.” Thea’s eyes flashed with surprise and a genuine, unguarded smile spread across her face.  So, _of course_ , Felicity started to babble, “But _last_ year, well, we didn’t spend any time alone together.  Usually you were with Laurel.  Which is fine, since you two were super tight.  So much more than you and I….”

Ahhh _frak_.  Now Felicity _really_ sounded like a middle-schooler.   _‘You liked Laurel better than me…’  Meh. Meh._ Talk about pathetic.

Thea’s face fell and, why, oh _why_ , couldn’t Felicity have stopped while she was ahead?   

But before Felicity could come up with anything to fix this, Thea asked, “You can’t _possibly_ think…you don’t think that _I_ thought Ollie belonged with Laurel and not you?”

“Nooo!” Felicity immediately answered.  Except she answered so quickly and so… _anxiously_ , it didn’t sound true at all.  “I just…all I meant was that you were really close to Laurel.  I’m sure you hoped she’d be your sister one day…”

Frakity frak _frak_.

Felicity didn’t know where _that_ came from, but she really wished it would go back from whence it came. It wasn’t like Thea had _ever_ been anything, but one-hundred percent supportive of Felicity and Oliver’s relationship.  

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty…”_ Thea said it the way Oliver did and…

It made her eyes burn. Felicity pressed her lips together in an effort to contain…everything.  Like she wished they’d contained that last _dozen words_.

Grabbing a chair, Thea pulled it over and sat directly in front of Felicity.  Taking her hands in hers, Thea leaned forward and said, “Felicity, I can _honestly_ say, from the first moment I saw you and Ollie together…even though I had just gotten out of the Lazarus Pit and was half _out of my mind_ …” Felicity let out a soft laugh, she just couldn’t help it, but Thea smiled back.  “I knew that you were the _only_ one for my brother.”

Okay, that was…tears filled Felicity’s eyes.  She couldn’t keep them in any longer.  Taking a shaking breath, she managed to get out, “You realized that as we were saying _goodbye_?  Possibly _forever_?  Talk about tragic.”  Felicity wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not, but tears were cascading down her cheeks.  

Thea’s smile was soft and a little sad, but, also, full of love.  “I had never seen Ollie look at anyone the way he looks at you.  That was the first time I saw it, but…I’ve seen it a million times since.”

Again, a soft, watery laugh burst from Felicity’s lips and she couldn’t stop the smile that took over her face.  

Reaching out, Thea brushed a tear from Felicity’s cheek.  “Felicity, I…Laurel was like a sister to me.” Her voice cracked and Felicity nodded squeezing her hands tight, trying to let her know that there was no part of her that resented that.  “And Quentin has become like a father to me, but…I didn’t need Ollie to marry Laurel for that to be the truth.  Sure, when I was seven and _knew nothing,_ I dreamt of them getting married so I could be a flower girl.” Thea’s lip quirked up.  “I would have been an adorable flower girl.”

“Oh, you would have,” Felicity laughed, “but I can’t imagine you would have been more beautiful than you are as maid of honor.”

Thea’s face scrunched up and tears filled her eyes.  She blew out a breath and continued, “Now that I have some idea of what a healthy relationship looks like, I know Ollie and Laurel were not it.  But _you_ and Oliver…” Thea sighed, her eyes getting softer.  “He’s so… _happy_ with you.  So at peace and comfortable in his own skin.  I can honestly say that Ollie is the best Ollie…no, the best _Oliver_ , when he is with you.”

This time, it was a small sob that tore from Felicity’s throat.  She couldn’t…she had no words for what that meant to her.  So, of course, she said something stupid, “Well, your makeup is certainly getting a work out.”

Thea’s lips twitched, but her eyes remained serious.  “Well, let’s see if we can test it a little more.” Leaning forward, Thea gentle cupped Felicity’s face in both hands.  “Felicity, my relationship with the Lances aside, I can say with _complete_ certainty that there is no one I would feel more honored to welcome into our family…to call _my sister_ than you.”

“Oh God…” Felicity let out another sob, followed by more of that watery laughter as she clutched Thea’s hands and the tears _really_ started to pour.  “Yup, you were right.  That was an even better test.”

They both laughed then, the sounds full of joy and relief and…and love.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity tried to pull herself and find her voice.  “Thea…God, I _can’t_ …” She had no idea how she was going to match that beautiful speech.  “I’m so glad we’re going to be sisters.  You are already such an _amazing_ sister to Oliver and I’m so lucky—”

Felicity broke off as Thea pulled away. Sitting back, her eyes shuttered and her face turned away.

O… _kay_ …

_That_ was an abrupt about face.  Had Felicity said something wrong?  Swallowing, Felicity faltered, then managed to ask, “ _Thea_?”

The younger girl wiped away a tear, her jaw clenching.  “I’m _not_ an amazing sister.  I don’t deserve to be Ollie’s sister, never mind yours.”  

Oh, wow.  Okay.  Um…the resemblance between Thea and Oliver had never been so obvious.  It was almost shocking.  “Thea…” Felicity didn’t know where to begin.  “Thea, you couldn’t be _more_ wrong.”  

Felicity reached for her hand again, but the younger woman stood before she had a chance, turning her back and pacing away.  

“You have no idea all the things I’ve done.  What I did to _you_ …”  Thea muttered, shaking her head squeezing her eyes shut.

“ _Me_?”  What?  “You’ve never done anything to _me_.” Thea was acting really weird now, but Felicity tried to smile and keep her voice soft and supportive.  She was pretty sure all the emotion was just activating the Queen siblings’ overdeveloped guilt complex.  Add in Thea’s very conflicted grief over Malcolm and...

Thea just shook her head, again, rejecting her words.  “Felicity, I…” Her nails were digging into her tightly crossed arms.  Then she took a deep breath and faced her. “I shouldn’t have said anything.  This is your wedding day.  We should be talking about happy things.  It was selfish of me to say anything at all.”

Okay, now Felicity was starting to get nervous and she felt something that was suspiciously like dread in the pit of her stomach.  She even considered taking Thea’s advice and letting it go.  Not opening a potentially ugly can of worms on her wedding day.  But, really, what could Thea have done to _her_? It couldn’t be nearly as bad as Thea was making it sound.  Right?

“Thea…” Felicity cut in just as Thea looked like she was going to go off again.  “You are _not_ selfish.    _Tell me_ what’s going on.”

Thea turned her face away again, shaking it almost violently this time, tears flying as she did.  “It’s not important—”

Now _that_ was the most obvious lie Felicity had ever heard.  Worse than the sports bottle one.  “It’s important to you, so it’s important to me and—”

“It’s my fault you and Oliver didn’t get married last year,” Thea burst out.  Then her eyes opened wide as if she couldn’t believe she’d said it and her hand flew to cover her mouth.  

And Felicity…

Felicity sorta kinda… _laughed_.  She couldn’t help it.  It was just so ridiculous.  There was plenty of blame to spread around with the implosion of her love life last year, but precisely none of it could be placed on Thea’s feet.

Letting out a deep sigh, Thea seemed to deflate.   She came back to sit across from Felicity, before saying, “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything, but…now that I _have_ , I…” Her voice broke and she swallowed.  “At any point, I can go get Curtis and he can take over as maid… _man_ of hon—”

“ _Thea_ …” Felicity burst out, not able to hold back another incredulous laugh.  This was getting crazy.  

“I’m serious,” Thea insisted, sitting forward and bracing her hands on her knees.  “If at any point you don’t…feel _comfortable_ with me standing up with you, I’ll go get Curtis.  William and I will take over the drones.  How hard can it—?”

“Thea, I am not switching… _persons_ of honor and…” Felicity shook her head, not even believing they were having this conversation.   “And you are _not_ responsible for Oliver and my break up.”

“It _is_.  It’s my fault as much as…” Thea waved her hand, “ _Samantha’s_.  Why do you think I couldn’t hold a grudge with her?  I’m just as bad.”

That didn’t even make any sense.  Felicity was starting to regret letting Dinah leave. “How could you _possibly_ —?”

“I told Oliver to keep the secret about William.” If Thea’s confession burst from her mouth, this positively exploded.   

And Felicity, she… _froze_.  Her body, her brain…everything.

But Thea kept going, “The night before your engagement party, I found out about William and Ollie told me he felt awful for keeping it from you and I told him _not_ to feel guilty.  I _told_ him he was doing the right thing...” Thea broke off with a sob.

But Felicity…she couldn’t focus on Thea’s feeling right now.  She…it wasn’t just a blow.  It was a knockout punch.  It sent her reeling.  A ringing started in her ears, because…that didn’t make sense.  No, it just couldn’t be true…

“I…I don’t understand…” Felicity was finally able to whisper.  Because she didn’t.  She couldn’t _begin_ to wrap her head around this.  

Looking almost panicked now, a full speed barrage of words erupted from Thea’s lips, “I didn’t know what would happen.  I never meant to hurt you.  I never thought…it didn’t occur to me that you’d _break up_ over it.  I…I told Ollie he shouldn’t feel guilty about keeping the secret, because the secret was keeping William safe and his safety was the most important thing, but, I—”

“How would telling _me_ have put William in danger?” Felicity interrupted, maybe a little harsher than she would have liked, but…this was _a lot._

“It…it wouldn’t have…” Thea looked like she might throw up. “Honestly, I wasn’t even thinking about it like that.  It was never…‘Are y _ou_ trustworthy?’  Or John.  Or _anyone_ specifically.  I was just trying to reassure Ollie that telling _no one_ was the right thing.  For William.  I really wasn’t thinking of it as and you and Ollie thing.  Which just shows how fucked up my relationship instincts are because…I don’t think Oliver wanted to tell everyone.  Just you.  Maybe, if I had understood that…” Thea shook her head, looking almost defeated now.  “Maybe, I would have said something different and…”

Felicity had no idea what to say.  It didn’t make sense.  So many questions.  Yet she  couldn’t even seem to formulate one.

Thea didn’t seem to be having the same problem.  Eyes fixated on the ceiling, she continued, “I still can’t believe it.  I sat there and told Oliver he was doing the right thing.  That he was keeping William safe by making sure he was as far from _us_ as he could get and…” Thea let out a bitter, ugly laugh.  “A week later, William was kidnapped, by _my_ asshole father.  Looks like I have awesome instincts when it comes to protecting children.  Remind me never to have any—”

“ _Thea_!” Felicity tried to interrupt.  Thea was a runaway train of guilt and Felicity needed her to just… _stop_.  So she could even think.    

But Thea didn’t stop.  “You probably shouldn’t let me watch William either, all things considered.  Though, your kids will probably be the only kids in my life, since my relationship skills, obviously sucks bills…and, _God_ , now I’m having a pity party and acting completely self-centered, which you _know_ I am—”

“Thea, _stop_!   Just…I need you to stop,” Felicity groaned, her fingers finding her temples and rubbing.  It was hard to even figure out how she felt about Thea’s confession with the barrage of guilt and self-hatred spewing out.  “You’re _not_ self-centered and—”

“I _am_ ,” Thea insisted, “and, _look,_ now I’m ruining your _wedding_ day.”  Her eyes were swimming with tears as they met Felicity’s.  “I ruined your first wedding and now I’m doing it again.  I had the opportunity to encourage Ollie to do the right thing, but I took…the _dishonest_ way… _my mother’s_ way…and, a week later, William was gone, you were broken up, Ollie had dropped out of the mayoral race and you stopped speaking to him, but kept speaking to _me_ and stayed _my_ friend because I was a selfish, cowardly bitch who—”

“ _Whoa_!  Stop, _right_ there!” Felicity held up her hands, her eyes wide as she tried to recover from that…spray of truth bullets.

Or, maybe, truth bullets was there wrong metaphor.   Perhaps, shame grenades would be more acurate.  

Felicity had managed to at least pause Thea’s tirade, but she still looked so broken.  The younger girl stood, not making eye contact as she murmured, “I’ll just go get Curtis—”

“Thea!  Sit!  And for goodness sake _shush_!”  

And, okay, that was Felicity’s loud voice and she wasn’t sure if this was the best time for it, but Thea wasn’t listening and…this was _a lot_ a lot.  

Thea did as she was told, looking a lot like she was getting into the electric chair as she sat back across from Felicity.  

“Give me a minute,” Felicity asked, managing to temper her tone at least a little this time.  “I need to…take it all in.”

Then…Felicity found _she_ couldn’t sit still.  Wrapping her skirt tightly around her fist, she stood and took a few steps away, trying to get her brain working, to figure out what she was feeling.

She was hurt, certainly.  And there was a twinge of betrayal.  But…mostly Felicity was… _confused_.

And Felicity really _hated_ feeling confused.  It was one of her top hated emotions.  Turning, she gripped the back of her chair and looked over Thea’s miserable form.  

“I…Thea, I’m having so much trouble with this because, I… can’t fathom _why_ you did that?  It seems so out of character.  You _hate_ lies?  You’ve been lied to by your parents over and over, by Oliver…I just don’t get why you would encourage him to lie to everyone he cares about.”

She understood that for Thea, the lie hadn’t been personally against Felicity.  (Well, Felicity kept telling herself that, hoping it would sink in.). But that didn’t make it logical. 

Thea just shrugged, her voice flippant and bitter as she said, “Guess, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“That’s not an answer, Thea,” Felicity told her softly, knowing how frustrated she sounded.  In that moment, she felt every one of the five years that lay between them.

“Isn’t it?” Thea asked and she sounded… _defeated_ , her eyes tired and world worn.  “I say that the last thing I want is to become my parents and, yet, every time I turn around, I’m acting _just_ like them.”

Now, _this_ was sounding suspiciously like brooding.  Felicity closed her eyes and rolled her head on her shoulders, trying to combat the building tension.  “Thea…that’s self-pity and not an explanation.”

Thea grunted and scrunched up her face, but Felicity waited and after a (rather long) minute Thea sighed and pulled herself up tall again, finally looking more like herself than a petulant teenager.  “All right.  I…I’ve thought about this over and over, tried to figure out why…I said it…why I _believed_ it at the time and…the only thing I could come up with was…” She turned and met Felicity’s eyes, “That was only about a week after I had almost died from the effects of the Pit, do you remember?”

Felicity tilted her head, frowning.  “Yeah…”

She managed to soften her voice, but if Thea was going to say this was an after effect of the blood lust she’d suffered, Felicity didn’t know if she bought that.

“Remember how… _my father_ …” Thea spat the last part with disgust, “the man who said he’d do _anything_ for me, remember how he refused to turn over the Ra’s al Ghul ring to save my life.” Felicity’s eyes widened.  “You didn’t think I knew that, but I do and…it’s all really ironic given he just _died_ for me.  So, apparently, his priorities were…first the League of Assassins, then his only living child, and, _finally_ , his own life...”

Okay…wow…

“Thea,” Felicity pressed gently, “that doesn’t—”

“At the time, I was thinking a lot about how I wished I had never known,” Thea confessed, not even seeming to hear Felicity interrupt.  “That Malcolm’s secret had died with him and that…I just went through my life believing Robert Queen was my father.  What did knowing ever bring me but heartbreak?”

Felicity sucked in a breath as the pieces fell together.

“And I thought…” Thea’s eyes were far away, vacant almost. “William, _my nephew_ , would be better off not knowing either.  William had a good life.  I checked.  He was happy and safe and… _normal_.  Wasn’t he better off _not knowing_ he was a fucked-up Queen?”

That took all the air out of her lungs and Felicity collapsed back into her chair.  She imagined the exact same thoughts tormenting Oliver when he had first found William.  Samantha had only fed into them and…now, it looked like Thea had too.  

“And with Damien Darhk out there and so… _fucking evil_ , I thought we could all pretend like it didn’t happen.  William could stay safe and happy and…” The look of self-hatred on Thea’s face was hard to look at.  “Obviously, I was wrong.   _Clearly_ , I’m a _complete_ moron.”

Sighing, Felicity reached out and reclaimed the girl’s hand (and Thea really did seem very much like a girl in that moment) and squeezed.  Thea’s eyes snapped to hers, looking afraid to hope.  

It gave Felicity the strength to say, “Thea…thank you for telling me.”

Thea let out a small huff of disbelief and she shook her head, asking in a small child-like voice, “Because now you can get Curtis to stand up for you?”

Felicity rolled her eyes and, _actually_ , found herself smiling.  “ _No_.  Because it means…” she gestured between herself and Thea, “ _you and me_ …can start off with a clean slate.”

Just like her and Oliver.  And Thea’s confession had given Felicity some new insight into how Oliver had made the decision in the first place.  She was grateful for that too.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …”

Thea’s face crumpled.  Her lips trembled as she tried to smile, but failed, the tears that had been gathering spilling over.

A wave of protectiveness swept her and Felicity pulled Thea’s hands into her lap and held them tight.  “And, Thea, I might not agree with what you said to Oliver, but it was not _your_ fault that we broke up.  It wasn’t even Samantha’s, even though it’s convenient to blame her. It was _our_ relationship.  Mine and Oliver’s.  No one caused it to fall apart but us.”

Thea sucked in a hissing breath.  “But—”

“Thea…” Felicity considered going through the laundry list of reasons the relationship had fallen apart, but honestly, this was her _wedding day_ and it was _over_. So, Felicity settled with, “It was about trust and fear and, yeah, _honesty_ , but also about how we worked together as partners—”

“Felicity, you and Oliver have always worked together seamlessly,” Thea protested, her voice soft and understanding now.  “Your partnership is… _effortless_.  Like you were born to it.  You’re like _drift compatible_ or something.”

With that comparison, there was no way Felicity could not laugh out of _sheer joy_ and, perversely, that made her own tears start to fall again.  “I need to tell Curtis you said that.  I’d love to tell Oliver but…”

“It would take too long to explain, I know,” Thea agreed, finally relaxing enough to smile a genuine smile.  

“But, the thing is as… _compatible_ as we both were… _are_ ,” Felicity tried to explain, needing Thea to understand…because they were family now.  And family didn’t turn their back on each other when they did something wrong.  They worked it through.  “As well as Oliver and I work as partners in the field.  Relationships, they require giving a lot more of _yourself_ , opening yourself up to a lot of pain and…that’s been hard for both of us.” Understatement of the century.  “But we worked through it and I truly think we are better for it.  And I wouldn’t be marrying him if I wasn’t confident that it’s with trust, openness, honesty…”

And this was their moment of truth.  Felicity reached out and gently tipped up Thea’s chin, so she could be certain she was looking at her as she added, “I would _really_ like it if we could go forward like that as well.”

Thea surrounded the hand still in Felicity’s lap with both of hers and clasped it tight.  “You have no idea how much I want that, but, _Felicity_ —”

“No, buts,” Felicity insisted, her confidence only slightly exaggerated. “I’m the bride and what I say goes.”

Thea laughed, which was good, since it was meant to be a joke.  But before Felicity could say anything else there was a knock on the door.

“You girls decent in there?” Quentin’s voice called back.

Oh _God_.

Was it time?   _Already_?

Felicity tried not to look panicked as she turned to Thea, who was now dabbing her eyes.  The younger woman nodded and smiled (just a little) as she called out, “We’re decent.”

Quentin peeked his head in and grinned widely.  Felicity’s heart started to roar as she took in his tan suit sans tie.  Frak, Oliver would look amazing in that.   Were they all wearing the same thing? 

“Well, look at you two…” Quentin hummed, his face softening to a fatherly gaze. 

Grinning… _beaming_ really, Felicity laughed.  All the angst of the last however many minutes drained away and all she could feel was…happy.

Happy and relieved and so excited she could _burst_.  And maybe, also, kind of overwhelmed.  Swallowing, Felicity tried to keep her voice steady as she asked, “Is it time?”

“No…no…Curtis says the _sun_ isn’t ready _._  He went on and on about angles and what-not.  All I really understood is that it will be at least 30 minutes until we have the _perfect_ conditions to spotlight all this,” Quentin waved a hand at both her and Thea, “ _loveliness_.  Not that I think any of that is necessary, mind you.”  Quentin ended with a wink that had Felicity flushing.  

Oh.  Well, then.  Felicity wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. “So…”

Was it rude to ask why he was there?

Luckily, Quentin was a perceptive man and Felicity didn’t have to.  “I’m here delivering Oliver’s wedding present,” he announced, grinning.

Wow.  Okay.  That was…very sweet.  Of both of them.   

Felicity was feeling giddy and almost light-headed, but…  “I’m pretty sure wedding presents are supposed to wait until _after_ the ceremony.”

“Well, this one won’t keep.  _Trust_ me.” There was a sound from behind him that had Felicity sitting up taller, but Quentin didn’t step aside.  In fact, his grinned just got wider, blocking the door.  “By the way, I want to point out that I get at least forty percent of the credit for this present and ten percent goes to Lyla and J—”

“Oh _Quentin_ , just stand aside!”

At the familiar voice, Felicity’s breath caught.  It couldn’t be...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note** :
> 
> And we end with one of the most obvious cliff-hangers ever.  I’m sure many of you will guess the surprise, but hopefully I’ll still have some surprises ahead in the next few chapters.
> 
> _This_ chapter has so many potentially controversial things in it, I’m tempted to go hide under my covers.  I can’t (and probably shouldn’t) address all the possibilities here.  But there are some I’d like to.
> 
> Felicity’s chosen married name…Queen, Smoak-Queen, Smoak…as I write this I have no idea what canon chose (which is odd since they’ve been married for at least 5 episodes now).  I chose ‘Queen’ for this piece, because it felt right.  I wouldn’t say that it’s my headcanon.  In fact, I may very well make a different decision in a different fic.  
> 
> In real life, I believe this is very person decision every couple needs to make for themselves (for heterosexual couples, unless the man is willing to change _his_ name the final call is definitely his wife’s).  I kept my maiden name when I got married.  My reasons were very specific to our circumstances and I believe everyone else should do the same.
> 
> Also, I’m sure there will be plenty of people who disagree with what I saw as Felicity’s original bridal party.  There was a lot of disagreement between me and my betas.  A lot of discussion.  Then a poll on Twitter (because any time **Imusuallyobsessed** and I disagree I feel _compelled_ to post a poll and truly appreciate anyone who participated).  Then there was more discussion.  I think that part of the story is richer for it and I’m happy with the results.
> 
> I’d love to hear other povs and/or debate here or Tumblr/Twitter.  Though, please, stay respectful.
> 
> Because I decided to finish (at least the first typed draft) of this story before starting to post again, I asked for some more help with early feedback.  Many thanks to **mariposablue9, lageniuswannabe,** and **Noelle** for answering my call, wading through my grammatical nightmare of a first draft, and keeping me motivated.
> 
> A million thank you’s to **Imusuallyobsessed** , who has gone through this chapter with me in _exhaustive_ detail sooo many (too many) times.  To **Ireland1733**  for her unending support and company down the rabbit hole, acting as my maid of honor in the of planning this wedding (which sounds epically ridiculous, but is true).  And to **Fairytalehearts** who has been there with me from the first and who I’m so grateful for.
> 
> Don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos if you liked it.  Thank you for reading!!!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> (Emmilynestill on Tumblr and Twitter)
> 
> P.S:   ‘ _Drift Compatible_ ,’ for those who don’t know, is from _Pacific Rim_.  I don’t think it was a very good movie, but drift compatibility is one of the most romantic notions I have ever come across.  Probably why it has inspired so much fanfiction (and why I watched the damn movie).  I suggest googling it if you want to know more.


	17. The Things We Do (Because We’re Family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

“Oh _Quentin_ , just stand aside!” 

But the poor man didn’t even have a chance to react, never mind do as he was told.  

Neither did Felicity, for that matter.  The next thing she knew, her mother pushed Quentin aside and burst into the room, her arms thrown wide as she squealed, “My _beautiful_ girl!”

Felicity flew to her feet, tears that had only just stopped welling up again as she cried, “ _Mom_!”  

Oh _God_.  She couldn’t even… 

Not pausing, Felicity opened her arms and Donna flew into them with a sob of her own.  “Momma,” Felicity moaned, not even aware of what she was saying.  “Oh God.  I can’t believe you’re it.”

Donna squeezed her tight, rocking her from side to side, and Felicity had to laugh with the sheer joy of it.  Because this was her _mother_ and it was her _wedding day_ and she was _really_ here.  And no one gave hugs her mom.

Now everything _really_ _was_ perfect.  Almost too much so to be real. 

Burying her face in her Donna’s soft (and abundant) hair, Felicity breathed in the familiar sent of her shampoo and…she hadn’t thought… _God_ , Felicity hadn’t even allowed herself to _contemplate_ how much she wanted her mom here.  She hadn’t thought it possible, so she hadn’t gone there, but…wow, she was _here_.

Oliver had done this for her.

Could she be marrying a more perfect, more _wonderful_ man?   Felicity couldn’t even begin to express how grateful she was.  To Oliver and Quentin and Lyla and John and… _everyone_ who had made this happen.  And to whatever higher power was looking down on them today.

“We’ll just give you a few minutes,” Thea whispered, attempting to step around them.

Except…no.  That was wrong, Felicity…

It took Felicity a second to break through all the… _everything_ swirling around her brain, but it was enough to register that Thea couldn’t go like this.  Not yet. 

Pulling back from her mom, Felicity tried to dry her eyes, but, wow, this might just be too much crying for her contacts.  It was a good thing they brought a spare.  “No, wait…”

They hadn’t resolved this and, if Felicity was correctly interpreting the look in her almost sister-in-law’s eyes, Thea was off to brood herself right into a pit of self-loathing. 

Feeling a frazzled, Felicity hesitated and she didn’t want to let go over her mother, but… _frack_ “Ten seconds,” she whispered, before turning and lunging straight from her mom’s arms to Thea’s, pulling her in and rocking her as her mother had just done to her.

It was too much.  Felicity was having trouble keeping up were all the thoughts, never mind the emotions swirling through her poor brain.  Excitement, hope, love, gratitude, affection, wonder… _wow_ …every single one of them were positive, yet, still so overwhelming. 

And she hadn’t even seen Oliver yet.  This day…how the hell was Felicity going to survive it? 

Well, first, she needed to say something to Thea.  Who the hell knew what, but…but then (as they so often did) the words found Felicity and then they came tumbling out. 

“You are the best maid of honor I could ask for.  I don’t care what happened before.  I…” Felicity’s voice broke mid-whisper and she swallowed.  “I don’t want _anyone_ else and I…” Frak, she was a mess.

Thea let out a half-sob/half-laugh, burying her head in Felicity’s neck and hugging her back just as tight. “You really forgive me?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Felicity nodded.  “That’s what families do,” she choked out.

Thea responded with an embrace that was almost painful (that’s who Felicity got for marrying into a family of superheroes) and a soft sob. 

But it was barely a second before Thea’s arms loosened and she whispered in Felicity’s ear, “Thank you,” starting to pull away.

The next wave of emotion threatened to dissolve Felicity into a puddle of chiffon and really good makeup.  She wasn’t ready to let Thea go.  Not until, she said…

“I love you.”

Thea’s next sob was a little louder, even muffled as it was in Felicity’s shoulder.  She could barely make it out, but Felicity swore she heard a hushed, “I love you too.” 

Before Felicity could figure it out, Thea steeped back, reaching out and cupping Felicity’s face, brushing away the tears with her thumbs.  “We’ll be back in thirty minutes—”

“Make it _twenty_ ,” Quentin corrected, ever the dad.  “I hate to rush you girls, but that sun ain’t gonna wait.”

“Twenty,” Thea corrected, her voice thick, her eyes never leaving Felicity’s.  “Then I’ll fix your makeup.  And mine.” She let out a breathy (and relieved) laugh.  “ _Again_.”

Felicity laughed too, because all she seemed to be able to do was laugh and cry.  Thea’s face was also covered with tears and her eyes were swollen, but her mascara and eyeliner were barely smudged.  It seemed a very good sign, since Felicity was sure her face was a similar tearful disaster.

Taking two steps back, Felicity gave Thea’s hand one last squeeze and nodded.  “Make sure Oliver knows I Iove his gift.”

“Tell him yourself,” Quentin muttered, gesturing for Thea to hurry.  “It will take her twenty minutes to _get_ to Oliver given the length of that damn aisle.  Speedy or not.”  Once Thea had slipped by him, he pointed at Felicity, then Donna, and warned, “Twenty minutes.”

Then Quentin pulled the door closed behind him.  Felicity turned to her mother and…she _still_ couldn’t believe she was here.  It felt like a dream.

Felicity fumbled for her mother’s hands, only managing a breathy, “ _Oh mom._ ”

It wasn’t the most articulate and it didn’t even begin to express everything Felicity was thinking and feeling right now, but it was the best she could manage.

Donna, tears rolling down her face, took Felicity’s hands and held her arms out wide.  Her wide blue eyes flying over her.  “Oh, my baby girl, _look_ at you!  Has anyone _ever_ looked _this_ gorgeous?”

A laugh burst from Felicity’s mouth, closely followed by a sob.  That wasn’t something she thought anyone would ever say about her.  Even her own mother.  In some ways Felicity had always felt like such a disappointment to Donna.   

But disappointment was the last thing she saw in her mother’s eyes.  Felicity could really feel her nose clog up now, which signaled she was moving to a whole ‘nother tier of snotty mess-ness.  Felicity needed to get control of herself.  There were some things even Thea’s magic makeup couldn’t fix.

“I can’t believe it,” Donna shook her head, tears in her own eyes as she echoed Felicity’s own thoughts.  “You look like a princess!”

Felicity’s next laugh was even louder.  Who would have thunk, Felicity Smoak, dressed like a princess, about to become a Queen? 

Certainly not her.  Felicity had never been _that_ girl, the one who’d dreamed of being a princess and it certainly hadn’t been her goal to look like one today.  Yet somehow…

Her mother’s words filled Felicity with joy.  They felt real and perfect and… _right_.  If there was ever a day for her to find her inner princess, it was today.  She might as well embrace it.

Sniffing, Felicity found herself asking, “Do you really like it?  it’s so different from the one we picked out together?”

Which frankly, had been the goal, but even before her mother had shown up Felicity had felt the bite of guilt for ignoring her mother’s preferences.  And an irrational belief that she would be heartbroken if her mom didn’t like this one.

Donna reached out and touched Felicity’s cheek with her finger-tips, almost as if she needed to assure herself she was real.  Felicity knew the feeling.  “Oh baby, you would have looked gorgeous in that one too, but _this_ …” She blew out a shaky breath, her eyes bright.  “This entire wedding is _extraordinary_.  Who could have thought to even dream such a thing?”

There was something in her mother’s voice that sounded a lot like awe and it made Felicity just… _beam_.  She felt like she could just burst.  “Do you really think so?”

It was insane, but Felicity couldn’t think of the last time she’d craved her mother’s approval more.

“ _Hon_ ,” Donna fixed Felicity with an are-you-kidding expression, “we are on an aircraft carrier.  An active duty, five thousand very _fit_ sailors strong, aircraft carrier.  In the Philippines.  Thirty-six hours ago, I was doing a double in a packed casino and a man in black…a full-on _Man in Black_ , sunglasses and all, strode into the _dimly lit_ casino and tells my boss I have to come with him. That it’s a matter of _national security_!”

“Oh no!” Felicity gasped, covering her mouth as hysterical laughter threatened to bubble out.  But, _wow_ , she can’t believe the trouble everyone had gone through.  Just so she could have her mother at her wedding.  Lyla was her hero.  She was deserved way more than ten percent of the credit.

“Mmm hmm,” Donna hummed, nodding.  “It was rather terrifying, I must say.  I was worried that you had gotten into the same trouble as your father.”

_Eek_.  Felicity winced.  That was less great.  “I’m so _sorry_ , mom.”

But her mom waved it off with a flick of her wrist.  “As soon as I they got me in that SUV…you know, one of those with the windows so black you can’t imagine anyone can see _out_?  Well, they put me on the phone with your Oliver and it was quite the relief to learn my daughter is working _for_ the government and not against them.”

“Well, more _with_ than _for_ ,” Felicity felt compelled to correct, _for_ would involve a paycheck, which would be rather nice with her severance coming to an end soon.  “I’m still sorry for all the drama.”

Shaking her head, Donna seemed far from upset.  (Though, that was only because she didn’t know how closely Felicity had flirted with exactly what her mother was afraid of, working with helix).   “Oh, you know I love drama,” she joked.  “Oliver cleared it up pretty quickly, but then…well…” Her mom blew out a breath, her sunny enthusiasm evaporating in a blink.  “Then I was just left worrying about whether you actually _wanted_ me here.”

“Oh mom,” Felicity sighed and…here it came.  The _crushing_ guilt.  She’d been waiting for it, actually.  “Of _course_ , I want you here.  You were the missing piece and now everything is _perfect_.”

Donna swallowed, looking far from convinced.  Felicity wished she could brush it off as typical Jewish mom guilt, but that was pain in her mother’s eyes and Felicity had put it there.  By being a terrible daughter.

Felicity had hoped her mom would understand that after the breakup ( _and_ getting fired _and_ Laurel’s death) she had needed time to lick her wounds.  To not take the distance Felicity put between them personally.

But, of course, _she had_.  Felicity couldn’t even pretend that she hadn’t know that she would.  She just hadn’t wanted to think about it.

“Truly, mom,” Felicity insisted, putting all the emotion she could in the statement.  “I’m so, _so_ happy you’re here.”  Beyond that, she didn’t know what to say or do to make this better.

Donna sighed, her face softening.  She gave Felicity a small, relieved, if a little sad, smile.  “You forgive me, then?”

Felicity was taken aback and could only look at her mother with confusion.  She shouldn’t she be the one asking that question?

Her mother seemed to read her expression and added, “For sending your father away?” Donna was wringing her hands and chewing on her lips…

And, God, was _that_ what she thought?  That Felicity had been distant this last year as a way to punish her? 

Just when Felicity thought she couldn’t feel worse about the situation.  “No.  _No_ …mom, I forgave you the same day.  I _told_ you that.”

Well…okay.  Maybe, Felicity held onto the _tiniest_ bit of resentment over what her mom had done when she little.  She certainly didn’t agree with Donna’s decision to lie to her about her father any more than she agreed with Samantha’s…

And, wow, talk about some scary similarities.  At least now William wouldn’t grow up thinking his father didn’t love him the way Felicity had.  Then again, if Felicity hadn’t bottled her feelings up, if she’d _told_ her mother how unloved she felt by her father’s abandonment, maybe Donna would have told her the truth long ago, instead of her having to learn it from her father in the middle of a crisis. 

“I know, but…” Donna shook her head.  “Avoiding me for almost a year tells a different story.”

Oh God.  How on earth was Felicity going to convince her that wasn’t it? And she’d like to point out that it was pretty unfair that they could be talking about one of the worst decisions Donna had made as a parent and Felicity was one grappling with heart-wrenching guilt.  On her edding day no less.

There was just something about her mother’s wide, sad eyes.  They always made Felicity feel like she was in the wrong. 

Then Donna added, “I also figured you changed your mind after I sent your father away _again_ , last year.” 

“Mom—wait… _what_?”  Felicity did something resembling a double take.  Because…excuse her.

And, suddenly, Felicity _wasn’t_ feeling like she in the wrong any more.  Wide, sad-eyes could only do so much.

The puzzle pieces fell into place and…Noah had taken a bullet for her, had spent days trying to convince Felicity how much he wanted to be in her life only to disappear into thin air as soon as Rubicon was dismantled.  With only a vague message from her mother left behind.

 “That fight in the hallway?  You told…you _convinced_ Noah to leave?” Felicity whispered.

At the time, Felicity hadn’t had the time to feel hurt.  Darhk showed up at the Loft and threatened to kill her mother and, then, they’d had to save the world.  _Again_.  But once the dust settled…it had hurt. 

And Felicity had been pretty pissed off at herself for caring.  Because shouldn’t she be numb to it by now?  Shouldn’t she be over it?

It wasn’t even that Donna had asked Noah to go that upset Felicity.  It was that she hadn’t _told her_ the truth about was why he left, she’d just left Felicity feeling abandoned.  Again.  For a woman who goes on and on about honesty, her mom certainly had her own share of secrets.

Donna’s hand fluttered up to cover her mouth and she stumbled back to fall into the chair Thea had vacated.  “You _didn’t_ know.”

Wonderful.  Now, it was becoming clear that Donna _still_ wouldn’t have told her the full truth if she hadn’t thought Felicity already knew.

“ _Mo-om_ …” Felicity took a shaky breath.  It was one thing to cry happy tears, but she refused to cry ugly anguished tears on her wedding day.  But, still, she _had_ to know.  “What did you say to him?”

What had it taken to make her father abandon her?  _Again_?

“Just…” Donna shook her head, refusing to meet her eyes.  “Just that we both knew the best thing he could possibly do for you was to get out of your life and stay out.”

Of _course_.  God save Felicity from overprotective mothers. 

“Oh God, _mom_ …” Felicity collapsed back into her own chair, her head falling back and her eyes closing.  This might just be one thing too many to deal with today.   Maybe, her and Oliver should have truly eloped.  _Alone_.  “I had just told you I work with the Green Arrow, you didn’t think I could take care of myself?  That, maybe, it was _my_ decision to make?  I’m not a child.”

What if her mother hadn’t done this?  Would Noah have still left?  What if Felicity had tried to contact him herself?  Could they have had a relationship this last year?  Would he be around to walk her down the aisle?  Did Felicity even _want that_ after everything?

Because, even if he _had_ been pushed away with guilt, Noah could have contacted Felicity at any time.  He could have at least said goodbye.  And _he_ didn’t have the excuse of not realizing how abandoned and unloved Felicity had felt.  Because she had told him. Then punctuated it my having him arrested.

Oliver had tried to stay away from William for what… _a month_ after he initially found him, before contacting Samantha and running off the Central City.  Then, when Oliver sent him away, he’d had to make sure he had no idea where William was and Felicity knew that was at least partially to keep himself from giving into the temptation of seeking William out, if only too assure himself that his boy was okay. 

A parent should _want_ to be with their child.  Like Oliver did.  Hell, like Malcolm did.

Like Felicity’s mother wanted to be with her. 

All Donna had ever wanted was to keep her safe and be in her life.  And on both, Felicity had fought her every step of the way.

_Crap_.

“You may not be a child, but you’ll always be _my baby_ and you don’t know Noah like I do,” Donna finally said in a small voice, one with the tiniest hint of defiance.  “And it’s a mother’s job to protect her child, no matter how old they are.”

Clearly, Donna had no clue of the revelation Felicity had just come to, because she should have quit while she was ahead.

Felicity grunted.  She had heard this argument more times than she cared to and she refused to give into it.  She flat out rejected the idea all woman immediately became… _Machiavellian_ the minute their uterus got put to use.  Or worse, that it was their God given right as a mother to believe the end justified the means as long as it kept their child safe.

Samantha…Moira…and now Donna…all willing to throw morals out the window, with possibility of their child being danger.  Lying to everyone in an attempt to control over their kid’s destiny. 

All Felicity could hope was that she would find another way.  The world was a dangerous place and any child her and Oliver had would be more at risk than most.  But if they couldn’t keep them safe without lying to and manipulating them, then they had no right to have children at all. 

Besides, the best thing Felicity and Oliver could do for their children is to teach them how to protect themselves.  They couldn’t do that with lies.

Donna turned her head away, a tear spilling over and running down her face.

God _dammit_.  She was breaking Felicity’s heart.

Felicity didn’t agree with all of Donna’s choices.  She refused to repeat them, but what good would holding a grudge do?  Especially when she knew everything Donna had done was because of the intensity of the love she had felt for her daughter.  For _her_.

Today was Felicity’s wedding day, it was about the future not that past.  A day for family.  And families forgave one another.  They loved one another.  And Felicity and Donna…they loved each other so much. 

That was what was important.  (Even if a tiny part of Felicity wondered if she was being besieged by confessions today because Thea and Donna realized she wouldn’t want to walk down the aisle with anything left unresolved).

Taking another breath, Felicity reached out and took Donna’s hand.  Her mother turned to look at her with hope in her eyes and she did her best not to cry.

“Maybe, we can start over. I’ll try to be more open and stop avoiding my feelings,” Felicity offered.  It was already a promise she had made, to herself and Oliver.  “But I need you to trust me and let me deal with whatever relationship I do or do not have with _my_ father!”

Felicity wasn’t exactly running to the computer to find him, but for frak sake, she was an adult.  She could take care of herself.  More than her mother would ever know.  She’d had a hard-enough time getting Oliver to let her make her own decisions about safety, she wasn’t going to keep fighting the same fight over and over with her mother, of all people. 

Donna’s face scrunched up.  “So, you’re saying, ‘Stay out if it!’?”

“ _Yes_!”  Felicity couldn’t say that more vehemently. Also, _duh_!  What else would she be saying?

Letting out a soft laugh, Donna nodded.  She reached up and ran her hands over Felicity’s face and Felicity caught them, holding them against her cheeks.

Her mother’s smile widened.  “I’ll try, baby.  I’ll always feel the need to protect you, but I’ll do my best.  No more secrets.  No more lies.”  Then she muttered, “Hopefully, your father will stay away and it won’t matter.”

Ugh.  “ _Mo-om_.”  Why did Felicity feel like that was all she ever said when they were together?

“Sorry,” Donna had the grace to look apologetic at least.  And she gave Felicity a smile so loving, it was impossible to stay angry with her.  “I really would like that fresh start.”

And here came the tears again.  At least, they weren’t the sad ones.  “Me too, Mom.”

Donna pressed a kiss to her forehead.  Then, leaning back, she took Felicity’s hands and looked into her eyes.  “But…hon, if that wasn’t the reason you’ve been avoiding me, what is?  You don’t return my phone calls and when you do, it’s barely two minutes before you have to go.  I’m lucky if I get one text every few weeks…”

Felicity thought that was an exaggeration, but…

Scrunching up her face, Felicity steeled herself, because after all this, the real reason just seemed…kinda _pathetic_.  “I was having a hard time with my break up with Oliver.” And everything else.  “I didn’t want to talk about it and I knew you would.  I knew you’d tell to talk to him.”  Or maybe _hound_ her to talk to Oliver was more accurate.  “I wasn’t ready to deal with it and…I knew you would make me.  So I avoided you.”

Wow, that was a _terrible_ reason to not talk to her mother.   For someone who had just insisted they were an adult, Felicity had been acting pretty childish.

Mouth falling open, Donna stared at Felicity for a long minute, before letting out a disgruntled sound, “ _That’s_ why you haven’t been talking to me?  It I had known _that_ , I would have shown up on your doorstep months ago to make you see sense.”

Felicity threw her hands up in the air.  “And _that’s_ why I didn’t tell you!”  Suddenly, she felt a whole less childish and a whole more justified. 

“ _Felicity_ …”  Donna sat back, frowning and shaking her head.  “ _Clearly_ , I would have been right.” She gestured around, at the dress, the flowers.  “Obviously, you are meant to be with Oliver.”

And that was… _really_ difficult to argue with.  Actually, Felicity had never felt less like arguing. 

“I wasn’t ready then,” was all Felicity said.  Then, before her mother could start a debate, she added, “But I am now.  And I’m very glad you are here to hare.  Clean slate?”

Then Felicity held her breath and waited. 

For all of two seconds.

Donna finally broke out on a huge grin and practically squealed, “A clean slate sounds _wonderful_ ,” leaning forward to hug her again.  “I missed you, baby.”

 “I missed you too, mom.”  And she had.  It might have been Felicity’s choice to isolate herself, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t missed her mother.  She held her even tighter, closing her eyes pressing her cheek against Donna’s.  “You can’t understand how much it means to me to have you here.” She was repeating herself, but about how close Felicity had come to getting married without her mother, it made her want to weep. 

“Well, hon…”   Donna pulled back, arranging Felicity’s curls as her lips tipped up in an almost sly smile.  “It just so happens, I brought some insurance.  Just in case you weren’t happy to see me.”  Her eyes were sparkling and her tone teasing, even though it stayed heavy with emotion.

Felicity shook her head.  Only her mother would think to do such a thing.  “Mo- _om_.”

Donna wagged her eyebrows at her.  “A gift always greases the wheel of forgiveness.”

Felicity had to laugh, though she really hoped that her mother kept that little piece of Zayde Jacob’s wisdom away from Oliver.  God knew he took those stupid sayings to heart and he would have bought her a house by now, if he’d latched onto that one.

“And the more effort put into the gift…” Donna’s smile widened.  “It wasn’t easy convincing those stone-faced Men in Black, who were unfortunately, _not_ as handsome as Will Smith, that they needed to escort me home first to get my medication.”

Donna reached over to grab her purse and Felicity heart did this teeny-tiny _seizure_ thing.  “Medicine?  I didn’t know you were on medication.”  Oh God, was her mother sick and Felicity didn’t even know?  Had she tried to tell her, but Felicity had ignored that call—

 “I’m not.”  Donna’s grabbed her purse, sending Felicity a mischievous smile.   “I’m as healthy as can be and going strong.  Not bad for 49.”

Felicity took a relieved breath, but… 

Then her mother pulled a velvet case from her purse. 

A very old, very familiar velvet case.  One Felicity hadn’t seen in over a decade, but would never forget.

Letting out a soft cry, Felicity’s fingers fluttered up to her lips.  “Is that…?”

Donna just grinned.  “Your ring is old and your dress new, yes?” she asked.  Felicity smiled and nodded, her eyes starting to burn again as her mom started to go through the ritual.  “And you got the blue garter like I told you…?”

Felicity grunted, sending her mom a quick glare.  “Garters are _stupid_ , mom.” They’d had this argument a thousand times.  All garters did was cut off her circulation and contribute to a tradition designed to allow creepy guys to feel up young girls. 

But before her mom could object, Felicity added.  “My panties are blue.”

Her mother just huffed.  “At least tell me it’s a thong?”

“ _Mo-om_ …”

“ _Fel-icity_ …”

Scrunching up her nose, Felicity rolled her eyes and admitted, “It’s a thong.” The dress might be flowy, but there was a breeze and she was not willing to risk panty-lines as she walked down the aisle.

Plus, Oliver loved her ass in a lace thong.

Donna patted her hand, so Felicity assumed she approved.  Then her mother’s hands fell on the case again and Felicity’s breath caught.  “So I brought _something_ _borrowed_.”

“Lyla leant her bracelet….”  Oh, _why_ was she arguing?  It was taking all Felicity’s will power not to snatch the case from her mom’s hand.

But Donna looked up and her grin just widened.  “Good, since we don’t have to worry about your _borrowed_ , you won’t have to give it back.  Unless you don’t _want_ it?” she pulled back the case teasingly.

Felicity immediately burst out with, “Gimme.”  She made grabby hands and Donna laughed, finally handing the case to her.

Once it was safely in her hands, Felicity took a deep, shaky breath and ran her hand over the case.  It was the same one Bubbe Sylvia had shown her all those years ago.  The same one that had been buried for three decades under a large Oak tree on the out-skirts of the Ardennes Forest where her older sister, Sophie had hidden it from the Nazis, before hiding the little girl herself with an older couple at their farm.

A tear splattered onto the case, breaking Felicity out of her daze. She hastily wiped it away and, swallowing, cracked open the case…

Oh wow.  “It’s more beautiful than I remember,” Felicity whispered, fully aware that her voice was shaking. 

Then Felicity couldn’t say anything at all, because her throat had closed off.  Her tears fell freely now, her fingers too busy tracing the delicate diamond filigree, to wipe them away.

Felicity could still remember the day bubbe first showed it to her, had sat her on her knee after Passover Seder and told her the story.  She’d had only been five or six at the time (it was before her father left) and, thinking back, that seemed young to be told such a story.

The story of how this necklace, and _Sylvia_ , had survived the Holocaust.  Felicity hadn’t understood the significance of that.  The horror.  All little Felicity had heard was a tale of her grandparents’ survival.  It wasn’t until much later that she realized that it was also a story about how many more had been lost.

But _her_ grandparents, not much older than herself, had escaped a great evil and found true love.  It wasn’t much different than most Disney movies, really.  Complete with dead parents and a hidden treasure.

And not unlike Felicity’s own story with Oliver.  She wondered if one day she’d sit with her grandchild on her knee and tell their story to a bright-eyed child.  Would she show that child her ring and tell them that her granddaddy had sown it into the suit he used to fight evil, keeping it close to his heart when they were apart?  How they had fallen in love while protecting their city?

“Mom, I…” Felicity blew out a breath as she lifted the necklace up to catch the light.  Even with Oliver’s romantic gesture, her engagement ring had nothing on the history, the legacy attached to this necklace.  “I want to wear this.  I’m _going_ to wear this,” she assured, before her mom could protest.  “But,” Felicity turned and squeezed her mother’s hand, “I’ll just borrow it.  I can’t—”

“You can and you _will_ ,” Donna insisted.  Her tone didn’t leave a lot of room for argument.  “It’s what your bubbe wanted.  She was so angry when I eloped.  She made me _swear_ you would wear this when you got married.”

Donna took the necklace from Felicity’s fingers, standing and moving behind her to unclasp the necklace she was wearing.   

All Felicity was able to do was let a small sob.  To think she had thought herself lucky to have been kidnapped wearing her favorite necklace.  As if it could ever compare.

Donna laid Felicity’s… _ordinary_ necklace on the desk and placed Sylvia’s around Felicity’s neck.  Leaning down, Donna whispering, “One day you will give this to your daughter on her wedding day.”

Felicity laughed through her tears.  “You just had to throw that in there,” she teased, with absolutely no ire.  “You couldn’t even wait for me to get married, before you moved on to babies.”

“Mama would be angry if I didn’t.  She’d say I was failing as a Jewish mother if I wasn’t pushing for grandchildren of my own.”  Donna smoothed the necklace around her neck.

Felicity caught her hand and squeezed, chuckling, because she could almost hear bubbe saying _exactly_ that.  She pressed her lips to her mother’s palm before letting go. 

Dropping a kiss to her cheek, Donna came around and pushed her chair out of the way.  Then taking both of Felicity’s hands in hers, she pulled her to her feet.  “Now let me see.” 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Felicity looked in the mirror and took in the entire picture.  The hair.  The dress.  The shoes.  The necklace.

_Wow_.

Donna let out a long sigh, her hand going to her throat as she murmured, “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful.”

It sounded like something people just _say_.  But Felicity had no doubt her mother meant every word and…

Any reservations Felicity had felt about her appearance… _gone_.  It was as if Sylvia’s necklace was the missing piece.  Now it really was perfect.

“And, can I say, that is some _incredible_ makeup?” Donna gasped, making Felicity laugh again.  “Where can I get some of _that_?”

Truly.  Whatever Thea had paid for this stuff was worth it.  Despite Felicity’s multiple sob fests, she was actually presentable.  If she looked closely, the foundation was, maybe, a little uneven.  Her lipstick needed to be reapplied and she wasn’t sure if her rosy cheeks were from blush or the tears, but…this was great stuff.  A+ maid of honoring.

But a glance at her mother showed she hadn’t faired nearly as well.  “Help yourself,” Felicity offered, gesturing to the desk full of cosmetics.  “Thea’s magic makeup is over there.”

As her mother touched up her face, Felicity dried her eyes, and…she just couldn’t take her eyes of the necklace, couldn’t stop touching it.  She…

“I’m sorry it’s not a traditional Jewish ceremony with a rabbi,” Felicity blurted out.  Was it wrong to wear something so steeped in her Jewish heritage when she was having such a secular ceremony?

“Are you kidding, hon?” Donna paused as she reapplied her mascara and threw Felicity her sunniest smile.  The one Oliver said reminded him of hers.  “You’re being married on an aircraft carrier, by a genuine naval captain and…have you _seen_ how good that man looks in his dress whites?   _So_ much better than Rabi Levi.  And better manners too,” she whispered in a conspiratory tone before giving a delicate shudder and fanning herself.

Normally, Felicity would be borderline terrified that her mother was planning to throw herself at the ship’s captain, but…she found herself laughing instead.  Let her mom enjoy herself, flirt with whoever she wanted to flirt with.  Though…

Felicity grinned.  “You know who else looks awful handsome today?  Captain Lance.”  Also, a plus, unlike Captain Mitchell, Quentin was single.

Donna’s smile faded as she caught Felicity’ drift.  It wasn’t as if Felicity had been trying to be subtle.  “Hon, you know—”

Totally ignoring the warning look her mother sent her, Felicity pressed on, “That you two broke up, because he fell off the wagon?  After his daughter died and he lost the job that meant the world to him?  Well, he _stopped_ drinking.  Totally on the wagon.  _Driving_ the wagon even.” 

Donna frowned and Felicity wasn’t sure why she was pushing this.  Oh wait, yes, she did.  Over a _decade_ of her mother’s interference in her own love life.  Turnabout was not only fair play, it was damn satisfying.

“He completed rehab months ago, did you know that?” 

Donna licked her lip, turning her eyes away as a blush started on her cheeks and spread down to her chest.  “No.  No, I didn’t.”

Also, they were adorable together.  Not to mention, no two people deserved to be happy more.   “ _And_ he’s Oliver’s deputy mayor now.”

“That I _did_ know.” Donna chuckled, shaking her head, starting to look resigned.  “What are you up to?  Trying to turn the tables on me?”

Felicity laughed out loud.  Maybe she was.   Wow, what a roller coaster today was turning into.  “Happy people want the people they love to be happy, that’s all.” 

And Felicity _was_ happy.  Despite everything, incredibly, she was so _very_ happy.  

Felicity wanted that for her mom too.  For her not to be lonely any more.  “You and Captain Lance were good for each other.”

Donna let out a sigh, shaking her head.  “Hmmm.”  But, then, she chuckled, teasing, “Well, if being deputy mayor has the same perks as being mayor…”  She gesturing around her at the spacious captain’s cabin. 

And, _obviously_ , it was just a joke, but…

Something clicked in Felicity’s head because…God knew Oliver being mayor had _nothing_ to do with why they were on this ship right then. 

And not fifteen minutes ago Felicity had made a very big deal about the importance of her and her mother being open and honest with each other.  About not keep secrets.  So, unless she wanted to be the hypocrite that she had (mentally) accused her mother of being, there were one or two secrets she needed to share.

Like the enormous one about Donna’s soon to be son-in-law. 

Frak.  Okay, so…she was doing this?  Felicity was _actually_ telling her mother that Oliver was the Green Arrow? 

Was this the right time?  Would there _ever_ be a right time?  But maybe, Felicity should take a page from Thea and her mom’s book and tell her mom now when she couldn’t possibly stay angry at her (not that Felicity really thought Thea and Donna had confessed today on purpose, but it certainly _had_ occurred to her).

All right… _yes_.  Felicity was doing this.  Putting her money where her mouth was.  Turning over a new leaf.  Starting with a clean slate and…whatever other stupid metaphors were escaping her right then. 

What could go wrong?

Wait, Felicity didn’t want an answer to that question.

“Mom, there’s—”

The knock wasn’t loud, but it still made her jump.  Donna laughed (but only because she had no idea that the knock had interrupted what was likely the biggest confession yet), placing a soft hand on Felicity’s shoulder as she called out, “Come in.”

Thea’s head appeared before Felicity could stop her.  Did she want to stop her?  She was kind of relieved actually…

“Sorry guys, times up,” Thea said and…

Oh.  Dear.  _God_.  

Felicity was getting married. 

Like… _now_.

Frakity frak.  God God in heaven.  It was _time_.

Thea bounded into the room, a ball of energy.  “I didn’t want to interrupt, but Curtis says that the sun is almost in…” her hands flew through as she seemed to grasp for words, “I have no idea where the sun is, but I’m pretty sure if you want to get married _during_ the sunset and not _after_ in totally darkness, we need to get moving.” 

Thea scooped up a compact and brush, turning to Felicity.  “Let see what the damage is…oh wow, _Felicity_ …”  Thea reached out to touch her necklace, but back before she did, her breath catching.  “Wow.”

Felicity just smiled, her own fingers unconsciously finding the diamonds that lie between her collarbones.  “It was my grandmother’s.”

“Is it _real_?” Thea gasped, making Felicity chuckle.

But her mom gave an indignant (if good-natured), “Of _course_ , it’s real.  It’s been in the family for centuries.”

Which it probably wasn’t.  They didn’t know how old the necklace really was.  Sylvia was too young when the war started and anyone who might have known the full history was dead by the end.  Felicity had researched it a few years ago and thought it was actually less than a hundred and fifty years old.

But Thea looked impressed and her mom so proud she could burst, so Felicity just smiled and allowed Thea to fix her makeup as her mother fluttered around, adjusting her hair and dress.  Mother of the bride and maid of honor chatted, briefly, about the necklace, before pulling back, declaring her ‘Perfect’, ‘A vision’.

Felicity was starting to feel a little dizzy.

They were done just in time, because Felicity turned to see an impatient Quentin, standing in the doorway with a huge smile on his face.  He rubbed his hands together asked, “Okay, whose ready to get married?”

Oh lord, _was_ she?  Was _anyone_? 

Wow, how had they gone from the wait that would never end to getting married _right the frak now?_

“I think we’re set,” Thea answered for her, scooping up their bouquets, and Felicity was incredibly grateful to have someone else take charge.  Best maid of honor ever. 

Butterflies were doing the tango in Felicity’s stomach and the excitement was unlike anything she had ever felt before.  She took the flowers that Thea handed her, holding them tight.  And…

Suddenly, Felicity couldn’t think about anything, but how she couldn’t _wait_ to see Oliver. 

To see his reaction to her walk down the aisle.  To stand up next to him and promise to be together always. 

To be his _wife_.

Felicity was getting _married_. 

And as such, Felicity needed to _not_ faint.

“Just one thing.”

Felicity’s eyes jerked up at a new voice and saw Dinah stepping around Quentin.  She was biting her lip and looking a hell of a lot more nervous than Felicity was used to Dinah looking. 

Oh, God, _now_ what?

“Tell me,” Felicity whimpered, bracing herself.

“It’s nothing… _too bad,_ ” Dinah hedged and Felicity thought she might throw up.  Dinah immediately caught on and shook her head.  “No one is attacking.  Everyone is fine and in place. Well…maybe, it’s the everyone that’s a problem.  You know how you wanted a _small,_ _intimate_ ceremony…” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
>  
> 
> I feel like I need to apologize for the rabbit hole I went down with the necklace and Felicity’s grandparents.  I wanted a piece of jewelry that really meant something to come from Donna and…before I knew it I had spent hours… _hours_ …researching Holocaust survivors.  I actually wrote the full story of the necklace out, but cut a little over 1K, after realizing it was too big a tangent (even for me). 
> 
> I am going to post the piece that I cut over in Tumblr for any one who is interested.  You can read it  [ here ](http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/post/171026269775/dont-let-me-go-sylvias-necklace).
> 
> It probably isn’t hard to tell from this who I think Donna should be with.  In fact, I’m not sure what I found more forced and out of character during the 6x09 reception, Donna having apparently completely reconciled with Noah off camera or Curtis ‘I’m-Your-Biggest-Shipper-Holt’ delayed post-divorce meltdown during the toast.  Sorry.  _Nope_.
> 
> Thank you to **mariposablue9, Imusuallyobsessed** , **lageniuswannabe,** **Noelle** and **Ireland1733**  for all their help with this chapter. I’m trying my best to stay focused and finishing these last edits (my motivation has not been the best lately).
> 
> Hopefully, we’ll be on deck with Oliver et al next Sunday.  Thanks for reading (don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it).
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> (Emmilynestill on Tumblr and Twitter)


	18. (Questionable) Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> Two chapters ago, I’m going to ask everyone to take a deep breath and when you exhale let out all their anger and resentment toward New Team Arrow, spherically Dinah before reading.  This time I’m going to ask you to do the same for Curtis, Slade, and (to a lesser extent, since he’s still a little shit) Rene.  
> 
> This is the Curtis who ordered Oliver and Felicity take-out and then made a lame excuse to leave them alone, who was at Oliver’s birthday party, and who shared a beer with Felicity while they tried to take down Rubicon.  This is the Slade who taught Oliver to fight on Lian Yu and stood aside as he was with Shado, even though he was in love with her.  As far as _this story_ is concerned, Slade is as responsible for killing Moira as Thea is for killing Sara and Roy is for killing that cop.  And Rene…yeah, Rene is Rene.  He hasn’t betrayed anyone, but he’s the same asshole he ever was.

“Do you think that Felicity is going to be okay with all this?”  

Oliver’s eyes scanned the length of the aircraft carrier, the _considerable_ length, one that was lined with a double row of sailors dressed in crisp white uniforms on both side…and tried not to be sick.

Felicity said she wanted a _small_ , intimate ceremony.  Only close friends and family, she’d said.  

And what she was getting was a goddamn spectacle worthy of royalty.  They may as well have a complete with military parade.  Seventy-six fucking trombones.  They hadn’t had a third of this many people on their original guestlist.  The one Felicity had immediately rejected as too long.

_Fuck_.

“No more or less than the last ten times you asked,” Slade muttered, pulling at his collar.  Which was just asinine, given first three buttons were _open_.  It couldn’t possibly be too tight.

Oliver sent Slade a glare to show just how _un_ impressed he was.  “I was _talking_ to John,” he hissed.

Of course, Slade was far from cowed.  He was showing a particular pleasure in tormenting Oliver, especially after Oliver had maneuvered him so cleanly today.

Five men stood at the front of the carrier, all of them dressed in a simple tan suit and a thin white button down, Oliver and John (the best man.   _By far_ ) along with Curtis, Rene, and, yes, despite his initial refusal, Slade.

Oliver’s old friend (turned enemy, turned friend, again) had been adamant that, while he was happy for Oliver and wished him the best, he would not be doing more than standing in the back and watching the wedding.  He didn’t have the right after the things he’d done.

But Oliver put high stock on forgiveness, given he wouldn’t be here today if he hadn’t been given the same gift.  Many, many times.  

Since Slade was in ARGUS custody and couldn’t leave the ship, all Oliver had to do was bring Slade the same suit as everyone else, then it was wear sweats to the wedding or...give in and become the reluctant groomsman.  

It was a battle that Oliver had won handily and victory was sweet.  For ten different reasons.  Mostly, because he had once considered Slade a brother and he had lost too many family members.  It felt good to have one back, free of Mirakuru and Malcolm’s brainwashing drugs.  Maybe Slade would never be a hero, but he wasn’t a villain either.  Not at heart.

And as a _brother_ …Oliver was pretty damn entertained at how annoyed Slade was.

However, right then, Oliver would cheerfully throw Slade (or the next person to make a snarky comment) off the side of the ship.

Oliver turned to Digg, making it absolutely clear that he was talking to _John,_ this time, and not any of the other nimrods he called friends, and hissed, “Felicity said ‘small and intimate’. How the hell is 500 seamen we don’t know ‘ _small and intimate’_?”

Okay, _maybe_ , Oliver was starting to feel a little panicky.  This was supposed to be _perfect._  For Felicity.  And now…if she were disappointed or upset…after _everything_ …Oliver didn’t know what he’d do.

And why did the suit that seemed so lightweight and breathable when he’d tried it on, now feel suffocating warm?  ‘Unseasonably mild.’ That’s what Curtis had said the weather was today. Unseasonably mild his _ass_.  Oliver was sure Felicity would find sweating bullets super attractive quality in a groom.

Digg raised one eyebrow at Oliver and gave him _the look_.  Damn it, Oliver was not in the mood for _the look_.  “Do _you_ want to tell the very nice naval captain, the one who saved our collective asses and agreed to marry you on his aircraft carrier that his crew needs to go inside?”

Clenching his jaw (and his fists), Oliver fought the urge to punch something or someone (preferably _someone)_.  As if he didn’t fucking know that!  Otherwise, he would have already taken care of it.

“One-Eyed Willy can tell him,” Rene smirked, gesturing his thumb at Slade.

The idiot was going to get himself throttled, but Oliver refused to give any response other than an eye-roll as he tried to resist the urge to pace.  Why the hell had Oliver agreed to get married on a _ship_ in the first place?  Talk about bad luck.  

“Normally, I’d be happy to toss them _all_ overboard,” Slade drawled, “but I’m trying to play nice.”  Then Slade sent Rene a look that made it clear he would be the first one overboard.  

A couple more _quips_ from the younger man and Oliver wouldn’t even try to stop him.

But Rene just sauntered over to Oliver, a huge shit-eating grin on his face, the one that rubbed Oliver in _all_ the wrong ways, and clapped him on the shoulder.  “Relax, Hoss.  They’re less guests than…decoration.”

If Rene didn’t watch out, _Oliver_ was going to throw him overboard.  

But, unsurprisingly, the idiot was completely oblivious to the danger he was in.  Rene chuckled to himself as he gestured to where JJ was running between the sailors, all of whom were at parade rest.

JJ laughed with delight as he tried to get the sailors to react to him, ecstatic when they didn’t.  William trailed behind the much smaller boy, keeping him from getting in too much trouble.

Watching them was almost enough to make Oliver smile.  Almost.

Digg, however, had no such problem.  He crossed his arms and grinned unabashedly as he watched their boys playing amongst the sailors.  “They _are_ doing an excellent imitation of statues.”

John, too?  Was that supposed to make Oliver feel better?  Because… _what_?  Felicity wouldn’t notice the 500 uninvited guests if they stayed still?

“Or those British dudes,” Rene added.  “What’re their names?”

Would Rene just shut the _hell_ up?  He couldn’t possibly think this was _helping_.

“Queen’s Guard,” Curtis muttered absently from his position off to the side.  He was focused on his tablet, which was at least productive (Oliver assumed), but was still unable to resist being a know-it-all (which was at least comforting in is predictability).

“ _Yeah_ , them,” Rene nodded, “I didn’t know Americans could stand that still.”

“You should try it,” Slade suggested and Oliver was with him on that one.  “Especially the part where your lips stop moving.” In fact, he was pretty damn close to giving Rene’s place in the team to Slade.

“Ha!” Curtis froze, looking up, wearing what Felicity called his ‘eureka’ face.  At the moment, it just made Oliver more nervous.  “Queen’s Guard!” Curtis announced as if that meant something.  Then he looked at them all as if they were stupid (which Oliver hated so, _so_ much).

Finally, not getting the response he wanted, Curtis then pointed to Oliver, “ _Queen’s_ ,” then to the rows of sailors, “Guard.”

“Jesus,” John muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

But Oliver…

Incredibly, that _actually_ made him feel better.  Oliver had to bite his lip to keep from smiling as he remembered Felicity telling him last night she had changed her mind and, if he was okay with (as if Oliver could possibly _not_ be okay with it), she wanted to change her name to Queen after all.  

Warmth flowed over him at the memory.  Oliver hadn’t wanted to pressure her, so he never told her how much it meant to him.  Maybe, he didn’t even _know_ how much it meant to him until now.  But, God, Oliver wanted Felicity to be a Queen _…his Queen_ with every fiber of his being.

“Come on, guys,” Curtis grumbled, clearly annoyed that no one appreciated the connection he’d made.  “Queen’s Guard.  During the _Queen_ wedding, how perfect is that?”

Rene turned to Slade and muttered, “Why aren’t you threatening to push _him_ off the ship.”

Maybe, because Curtis was actually helping?  Oliver ignored Rene and turned to Curtis, saying, “If Felicity is upset they’re here, I’m counting on you to convince her of how _perfect_ it is.”  

In fact, Oliver seriously considered sending Curtis to Felicity to explain it _right now_.  The man was a triathlete.  How long would it take for him to get there and back?    

 “As long as those sailors don’t let my son run off the edge of the ship, I don’t care what we call them or how many they are,” John threw out, almost absently, as his eyes tracked the boys.  A ship with no walls was a dangerous place for an active toddler.

Oliver’s eyes followed his and he blew out a breath, smiling as he watched William, guide JJ back to the center aisle.  “William’s got him,” he murmured quietly, just for John.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver saw John’s lips twitch.  “I know.”

“Well, if they don’t, your Baby Mama is going to get an excellent picture of him flying off the side,” Rene joked and, really, it wasn’t funny.

That man really needed one of those head smacks.  Where were Nyssa and Dinah when Oliver needed them?  

Dinah was with Felicity, which was an acceptable excuse, but Nyssa was just loitering around, flirting with Captain Mitchell’s lovely XO, which was not.  Regardless, if Rene kept this up, Oliver was going to tell Slade to do it and let Rene deal with the concussion that would undoubtedly result.  

“Don’t be surprised if most of those pictures come back of _her_ kid,” Slade snorted.

“He’s my kid too,” Oliver reminded him, irritated at he’d suggesting otherwise.  Samantha was wandering around deck, following behind the boys at a distance, snapping pictures of their antics.  Thank God.  If she was focusing on _him_ , Oliver would probably scream.  “She can take as many pictures of the boys as she wants.  As long as she gets some of Felicity too.”

Slade’s scoff showed he didn’t think that was ‘ _bloody’_ likely, but before Oliver could start to second guess _that_ decision too, Curtis piped up, “No worries, I got my home boy’s… _and_ _girl’s_ back.” He flipped his tablet so that Oliver could see the four views of deck of the ship.  “Guaranteed to capture the bride from every angle.  I can pull any still you need.”

That got a genuine smile from Oliver.  “Thank you, Curtis.”  At least one of his groomsmen was useful.

Now all Oliver needed was Felicity to _not_ change her mind.

“Dude!” Rene grunted, loud and frustrated, making Oliver realize…

_Fuck_.  Oliver really _had_ caught Felicity’s penchant for speaking his thoughts out loud.  And they weren’t even married yet.  

“After all you’ve done, Felicity still said, ‘yes,’” Rene argued.  “She’s not going to change her mind because of a few… _hundred_ walking manikins.”

Scowling, Oliver snapped, “Thanks, Rene.”  And he really hoped his sarcasm wasn’t subtle.

“ _Oliver_ ,” John interrupted, a hand landing on his shoulder, “Rene may have the tact of a baboon—”

“ _Hey_!”

“…but in _this_ , he’s right.”  Digg squeezed his shoulder and Oliver just grunted.  

Even if they did have a decent point, Oliver’s anxiety wasn’t fading, so what good was it?  

Then John lowered his voice and asked, “Is this about _those_ guests,” he tilted his head toward the deck, “or the _one_ we had flown in?”  

Oliver winced, crossing his arms tightly and rocking on his heels.  The question hit a little too close to home.  

“Wait,” Curtis jumped in, ensuring that Oliver was going to have to talk about it, whether he wanted or not.  “The only person who got flown in…you’re not talking about _Donna_?”

Digg nodded solemnly and Oliver wished he hadn’t or…oh, _hell_ , Oliver didn’t know what he wished for anymore.  Except to be done with this excruciating _waiting_.  And to talk to Felicity.  He just wanted to talk to her and make sure everything was okay.

“Why would you be worried about flying in Donna?” Curtis asked, completely oblivious to Oliver’s darkening mood.  That or willfully ignorant.  “Felicity is going to be _stoked_!  It’s an awesome surprise!”

Oliver swallowed, not even able to meet Curtis’ eyes.  He knew that Curtis was just trying to help, but…

He’d thought so too.  At first.   Why wouldn’t Felicity be thrilled that Oliver had arranged for her mother to be at their wedding?  Felicity loved her mother and surprising her would make it that much more special.  Right?

Except then Donna showed up and…Oliver didn’t have the best track record with happy surprises.  He should have talked to Felicity first, before getting carried away.

When Oliver didn’t answer Curtis, John did, “I’m pretty sure it’s because the last time Oliver invited Donna to town to surprise Felicity she changed his handle to ‘Chatty Cathy’.”

Yup, that was why.  Though, why John thought it was a good idea to share that information with the three stooges, Oliver had no idea.

“ _What_?” Rene gasped, laughter lurking.  “Why’d she change it back?”

Jesus Christ.

Slade chuckled and Oliver…he turned to both of them to growl, “Not helpful, _Rene_.” He swore to fucking God, if this wedding didn’t start soon, someone was taking a swim today.

“Come on!  It’s the best handle ever!” Rene kept pushing.  Because Rene never knew when to take a hint.  Or an outright _command_.  “‘Chatty Cathy, on your left.  Two masked goons—”

“ _Rene_ …” John warned and even he was losing his calm tone.

“I can knock him overboard,” Slade offered, looking the most cheerful he had all day, “all I need is the assurance that you will all say it was an accident.”

It was tempting.   _Damn_ tempting.

Instead, Oliver sent them both a glare.  His _best_ Green Arrow glare.  And…

_Nothing_.  

When had _that_ stopped working?  It had to fizzle out now, of all times?  And _why_ the hell had Oliver thought it was a good idea to have these two goons up here with him?

“Look, man…” John’s steady voice drew Oliver’s attention back to him.  “If I didn’t think that Felicity would be thrilled about Donna, I wouldn’t have gone along with it.”

Letting out a breath, Oliver felt some of his tension unwind.  That was true.   John _and_ Quintin had thought it was a good idea.  That had to mean something.  But…

“I shouldn’t have done it as a surprise.  I should have…” Oliver shook his head.  He should have consulted Felicity first.  The way she’d been _asking_ him to do.  For the last two years.  Hell, the last _five_ years.  And she was right.  Oliver never learned.

“What!   _Nooo_!  Best surprise _ever_!” Curtis swore and, really, his boundless enthusiasm wasn’t making Oliver feel any better.  It was like having a Labrador puppy running around, knocking everything over.

“Oliver…” John sighed, shaking his head.  Then he drew himself up tall and with a determined look, put both of his hands on Oliver’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eye.  “If you tell Felicity I said this, I’ll deny it, _but_ this is _nothing_ like the last time you asked Donna to stay with you.  And _not_ just because that was out of the blue and this is Felicity’s _wedding_ and Donna is her _mother_ , but because…” If possible, John’s stare got harder.  “This is the part that you never tell Felicity, you understand?”

 “Umm…”  Was John _really_ asking him to keep something from Felicity?  Because Oliver wasn’t sure he wanted to agree to that.  Especially minutes before their wedding.

But John didn’t wait for Oliver to agree.  He just lowered his voice and said, “The last time…Felicity was out of her _fucking_ mind.”

“Wha…?  Excuse me?” Oliver didn’t know what he had _thought_ John was going to say, but…

If anyone _else_ said that about Felicity, Oliver would knock their teeth out.  But this was John and John didn’t disrespect any woman, never mind Felicity.  Which just left Oliver feeling like he must have heard him wrong.  Or that he was being a pranked.

Then, of _course_ , Curtis stepped forward, to add his two cents.  “We talking about the time Dr. Palmer got shrunk to the size of a cheeto and Damian Darhk kept him in a terrarium and Felicity got _whacked out_ on energy drinks and junk food because she decided it was all her fault?”

“Yup,” John answered before Oliver could.  Oliver still hadn’t processed the first part of the conversation yet.

Curtis stepped forward to clap his hand on Oliver’s back.  Why did everyone seem to think it was okay to touch him all of a sudden?   

“Yeah, dude, I second that.  I’ve never seen Felicity so…” Curtis made a face as he searched for the right word.

Feeling as if, perhaps, he’d stepped onto a different Earth, Oliver supplied, “Upset?”  

Because Oliver might not know what the guys were getting at, but remembered _that_ night very well.  Mostly because he had been worried sick that Felicity had finally come to her senses and was going to leave him—

“Nah, I’ve seen Felicity way more _upset_.” Curtis made one of those stupid, goofy faces he made sometimes, screwing his face to the side and looking at the sky.  As if there were answers there or something.  “This was more…”

“Out of her _fucking mind_ ,” John repeated and Oliver was really going to have to say something if he kept talking about his future wife like that.  

“Yeah, that’s it,” Curtis nodded.  “That’s the right term.”

What the fuck?  He was living in a cuckoo clock!  “Felicity wasn’t…” Oliver couldn’t even repeat it out loud.  “That wasn’t Felicity’s fault.  I shouldn’t have—”

This time, when John grabbed Oliver’s shoulders, he looked like he wanted to shake him.  “Oliver, as your best man, I’m going to tell you something _very_ important about marriage.  Sometimes. if a wife… _or_ a husband, for that matter, is really fucking stressed out, they take it out on their spouse.   _Even_ when they don’t deserve it.” John turned to the clowns turned groomsman.  “Help me out guys?”

“Oh yeah,” Curtis immediately agreed.   _Vehemently_.  “ _All_ the time.”

Rene nodded, looking for all the world like he was reliving a past trauma in his head.  “It’s like they’re just waiting for you do something…doesn’t matter how small and _bam_!”

“Mmmhmm,” even Slade hummed his agreement.

When had his wedding turned into a circus?

But…okay, maybe, there was something to this if all of them agreed.  They _had_ all been married.  

Though, two of them were divorced.  Three if he included John’s first marriage.  And the fourth was _Rene_.

Besides, Felicity had a right to be angry after Oliver had invited Donna to Star City with asking.  

Oliver shook his head.  “In this case, Felicity was just—”

“You’re not _listening_ , man,” John asserted and he did shake Oliver this time.  “Felicity _overreacted_ and, honestly, if you hadn’t invited Donna then she would have found something _else_ to fly off the handle about.”

Was that _true_?  

He couldn’t say it hadn’t felt like an overreaction at the time, but Oliver figured he mustn’t have understood.  Felicity wouldn’t have been that mad at him if it wasn’t his fault.

Oliver looked at Curtis, which meant he really must be desperate.  But the man actually knew Felicity pretty well.  Did he agree with this?

Curtis nodded.  Again. (He’d been doing a pretty good imitation of a bobblehead this whole conversation) and if Oliver correctly interpreted his look, he fully agreed with Digg on this.  

Seriously?  Were they _actually_ saying that Oliver hadn’t deserved the way Felicity acted?  That was…it didn’t compute.  For a moment, Oliver felt like the whole world was off its axis.

Then Oliver thought about it.   _Really_ thought about what happened that fall.  With this new angle _and_ trying to remember what Felicity said about him putting her on a pedestal.  

When the world realigned, Oliver turned back to John and demanded, “If you felt this way, why didn’t you _say_ anything?  I thought Felicity was going to dump me!”

But John, the traitor, just shrugged, “I knew Felicity wasn’t going to _dump you_.  Plus, she’s terrifying when she’d angry.”

“Yup,” Curtis seconded.

And while Oliver one-hundred percent agreed with that one _,_ it didn’t mean he was okay with it all.  “You could have told me when we were alone.”  He remembered, vividly, a heart-to-heart with John in the Bunker, which would have been the perfect time to impart this wisdom of his.

“I didn’t want to choose sides,” Digg said way too casually, because really wasn’t staying quiet taking _Felicity’s_ side?  “And I figured Felicity deserved a pass with all she’s had to put up with over the years.”

Oliver grunted, because yeah, _that_ was true, but…

“A heads up would have been nice.”  

A hint.  Oliver probably could have handled the situation better if he’d understood what was going on.  He hadn’t wanted John to take sides, just give advice.  Because Oliver had been fucking clueless.

John shrugged.  “You worked it out, didn’t you?”

Really?   _That_ was what John was going with?  That it worked out in the end?  That was the kind of ass backward argument Oliver expected from Rene, not Digg.

“And Felicity is not going to mad about Donna,” Curtis added.  “ _Or_ the Queen’s Guard…” He actually stopped in the middle of his sentence to laugh at his own joke.  Clowns.  All of them.  “You’re just nervous.  It’s totally normal.  I was freaking out before my wedding too.”

“It’s natural to have cold feet, kid,” Slade agreed and Oliver didn’t know if he was trying to help or if he was ribbing him.

Either way, Oliver snapped, “I do _not_ have cold fee _t_!”

John sent him a knowing look and Oliver…

This time Oliver pointed a finger at _Digg_ , warning, “I _don’t_!”  He was so done.

“Yeah, you don’t look nervous _at all_ ,” Rene drawled.  And, seriously, Slade’s plan of knocking over off the edge of the ship and claiming it was an accident was looking better and better.

“The only thing I’m nervous about is that Felicity going to change _her mind_!” And, _fuck_ , why had he just admitted that.  Oliver was screwed.

All four of them started to speak at the same time.

“Kid, she’s—”

“Oliver—”

“Dude, she’s—”

“You know what guys.  I got this,” and to Oliver’s shock, _Rene_ stepped forward, pushing John and Curtis out of the way to take John’s place holding Oliver’s shoulders.  He was brave.  Oliver would give him that.  “Look, Hoss, I’ve only known you two for a year, but I know that you’ve put that girl through a lot of shit over the years—”

Slade started to laugh uproariously and Curtis muttered, “This is helping?” under his breath.  

But Rene, the little shit, kept talking, “But that girl… _your_ girl, she stood by your side, she covered your back, and she got down on her _goddamn knee_ to ask _you_ to marry _her_.   That’s love, man.  Felicity ain’t gonna walk away now, because the officiant _she chose_ invited half the crew.   _Or_ because you surprised her by flying in her _only_ family for her wedding.”

Oliver could only stare.

Okay.

Umm...

“Thanks, Rene, that… _actually_ helped.”  And that just might be the most shocking thing of all.

Then Rene went and ruined the moment by throwing up his hands in triumph and shouting, “You’re welcome!”  Well, in a strange way, it was comforting to see him revert to form.  He turned to walk back to his spot next to Slade, but stopped and leaned in, asking Oliver, “And if you want to… _misplace_ that IOU I gave Felicity last night as part of your appreciation—”

“Don’t push it,” Oliver warned.  Though, he was definitely feeling less… _terrified_ that Felicity was going to back out.  John and the stooges had some good points.

Plus, remembering how Felicity had cleaned the clocks of said stooges last night was enough to put a smile on his face.  Who’d a thunk it?  Oliver Queen’s version of the best bachelor party ever was nursing a beer with his best friend while watching his fiancée hustle their friends at poker?

“No way,” Curtis argued (even though Oliver had just said, ‘ _no’_ ).  “If I’m not getting out of it, _you’re_ not getting out of it.  Besides, Felicity already said she’d let us clean the bunker for those IOUs—”

“You have any idea how _much_ I lost, Hoss?  I’ll be cleaning the bunker three presidents from now.”  

John sniggered at Rene’s statement and Oliver found himself covering his face, trying to hide his grin.  It really had been a beautiful thing to watch.  

Rene shot them a dirty look before turning back to Curtis and jabbing a finger at him.  “This is your fault!  You were the one who said Felicity didn’t know how to play cards!”

Oliver let out an involuntary bark of laughter.  He hadn’t heard that part.  Why in Christ’s name would Curtis think _that_?  But when all eyes flew to him, Oliver ran a hand over his face, trying to school his expression.  If Felicity wanted them to think she was an amateur, far be it from him to correct them.

Curtis narrowed his eyes at Oliver. “Outside Flush?”

What the hell was an outside flush?  

Oh… _right_.  The weird card throwing meta.  Oliver remembered Felicity bemoaning how she’d gotten flustered lying to Curtis and tipped her hand, spewing a fake poker term mid-babble.  

Ha!  Curtis might have a photographic memory, but, really, didn’t he know Felicity better than that by now?  He deserved to be fleeced.

“Felicity knows nothing about poker,” Curtis continued to insist.  “Yesterday must have been beginner’s luck.” But he said the last softly, like he wasn’t quite sure.

This time it was Digg’s snicker that drew their gazes.  John didn’t even try to hide the fact that he thought they were all idiots. “Felicity.  The _math genius_.  Who grew up in _Vegas_.  Whose mom worked in a _casino_ all her life.  You really think _she_ doesn’t knows how to play poker?”

“Frak.” Curtis breathed, his eyes closing as his head fell forward.  In shame, Oliver hoped.  

As a man who called himself one of Felicity’s best friends, Curtis _should_ be ashamed.  And cleaning the Bunker with Rene for the next several months was a very fair penance.

“Hoss!” Rene hissed, giving Curtis a sharp punch in the arm, clearly blaming him for the loss.  

“Nobody _made_ you keep playing,” Slade reminded Rene, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his lip quirked up.

Rene practically snarled as he turned to Slade.  He wasn’t taking this well.  Oliver really should intervene, but it was an excellent distraction.  “At least, I didn’t _chicken out_ and fold after like…four hands.”

Slade didn’t raise to the bait.  In fact, he rocked back on his heels and grinned.  “I called it quits as soon as I realized Ms. Smoak was counting cards.”

Rene and Curtis froze.  They turned in tandem to stare at Slade, whose smile just grew.  This time it was Digg who slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his laughter as his deeply amused eyes found Oliver’s.  

“Felicity counts cards?” Curtis gasped.  Then his eyes widened and he breathed, “ _Felicity counts cards_.”  

And the lightbulb _finally_ went off in that mop covered head.

Curtis went so far as to slap himself on the forehead (because, sometimes, the man was a living cartoon).  “Of _course_ , Felicity counts cards.”

Rene wasn’t taking it nearly as well and he turned accusing eyes on Oliver.  “Cheats you mean!  Did you know your future wife _cheats_ at cards?”

And _that_ was the end of the fun.  All amusement fled as Oliver saw red.  

Who the _fuck_ did this little punk this he was?  Oliver turned on Rene and he must’ve, finally, looked intimidating, because Rene went white, taking two quick steps backward.  

Oliver jabbed his finger the little shit, growling, “My future _wife_ uses her _brilliance_ and _expertise_ to play cards.  She is so _intelligent_ that she can calculate the probability of winning a hand with very little effort.  That’s not cheating that’s _skill_.”

“Okay, Hoss, no offense meant,” Rene hedged, hands up as he continued to step back.  But just as Oliver started to turn away, he muttered, “Just saying it’s illegal—”

Oliver let out a growl and lurched forward.  If Rene was smart (which he wasn’t) he’d back himself right off the edge of this fucking ship and swim for it.

Slade laughed out loud. “Guess, I’m not going to be the one throwing that one over.  Don’t worry, kid.  I’m fully prepared to testify it was an accident.”

It was at that point that John must have realized Rene was in genuine danger and stepped between Oliver and Rene, arms spread.  “Okay, let’s just—”

But Oliver had no desire to calm down.  “It is _not_ illegal.  It’s just banned from most casinos.”

Of course, Rene didn’t stop.  Did he have a death wish?  “Because it’s—”

“ _Rene_ —” Curtis and John tried to warn him.

“ _Because_ the casinos are rackets,” Oliver snapped.  He knew this too well.  He’d seen the inner workings in Russia.  “They stack the deck.  They ban anyone with skill and call in cheating.  They don’t want playing that can actually beat them.”  Then, for good measure, Oliver threw in an extra, “Some people are just too stupid to realize that.”

“He’s not wrong,” Curtis added, looking at Rene, his eyes almost pleading with the younger man to stop arguing.  But then he winced.  “About the casinos, I mean.  Not about you being stupid.  Not that Oliver actually _said_ that.  Just…um…implied it.”  Curtis trailed off, eyes skirting back to his tablet.

Oliver kept his hard stare on Rene, waiting for him to take another jab or admit defeat.  In the end he chose the later and deflated.  “I’m cleaning the bunker for the next three presidents, aren’t I?”

_Finally_ , some respect.  It was about damn time.  

Oliver let his look stand for itself.

 “Kid, I wondered why you kept these buggers around. But I get it.  They’re a fucking riot,” Slade chuckled, grinning ear to ear.

Rene rounded on Slade, looking ready to vent his frustration on him, since he’d lost his battle with Oliver.  (He was about to learn the hard way that he wouldn’t fare much better with Slade.). “Hey, you—”

“Okay!” Curtis called out, interrupting what would very likely be an entertaining fight.  “ _This_ will have to wait later.” He turned to Oliver and smiled.  “It’s time.”

Oliver’s stomach clenched and then flipped over, his brain going blank.

Ummm….huh?  

“What?  You mean…?”

“That it’s time for you to get married?  The reason we’re all standing up here in matching outfits?  That’s what I mean,” Curtis teased, his eyes lighting up as Oliver tried not to hyperventilate.

“ _Now_?” Oliver had no idea why he said such a stupid thing.  Never mind why his voice fucking squeaked, but from the looks on the guys’ faces, he didn’t think he’d ever live it down.

“The sun waits for no man.   _Or_ woman,” Curtis chirped, stepping over to speak to the leader of the band.

And, yes, there was a _band_ on this aircraft carrier, all set up at bow of the ship next to the guys.  Apparently, all large naval ships had them, made up of various service members.

Digg’s arm came up and fell over Oliver’s shoulder, guiding him into position.  Which was good because Oliver’s feet had stopped responding to _him_.  “Don’t worry, man.  In a few minutes, your beautiful bride is going to walk down that runway…I mean, _aisle_ and she’s going to smile at you and you’ll forget these assholes.  You won’t have a care in the world.”  

Oliver’s eyes followed John’s hand as he gestured down the aisle and he took a deep breath, nodding.  He knew his best friend was right.  As soon as he saw Felicity walking toward him, everything would be okay.  He wouldn’t care about Rene or Slade or any other stupid thing.  

All that mattered was her.  

As long as Felicity was walking _toward_ him and not away.  

The band started to cue up, just loud enough for Oliver to hear it over the staccato of his heart.  William’s head turned and Oliver could see the boy searching him out, so he pasted on a smile for his son.

William beamed back and Oliver…he just felt so _full_.  It was all more than he had ever dared hope for.

Curtis gestured to William and boy turned to JJ.  Immediately, the pre-teen scooped up the smaller boy, swinging him up and settling him on his hip.  As if they had known each other all of their lives’ and not an entire forty-eight hours.

Then all Oliver could do was watch the boys’ backs as William quickly carried JJ to the aft of the ship, the opposite end of the long runway where (he assumed) the girls would appear on deck.   

The double row of sailors in their white uniforms began just to the left of the band, followed the entire length of the runway, in front of a row of fighter jets, then curved around the end of the ship and the right side of the ship, forming an enormous U of navy shipman all at parade rest.  Or Queen’s Guard.

As his son reached the sailors in white at the back end of the ship, Oliver strained to catch a glimpse of Felicity…Donna…Thea… _anyone_ …hiding behind the damn wall of sailors.  

But before he could, Captain Mitchell appeared beside them.  He was in full dress uniform, crisp white and a chest full of metals and, God, Oliver hoped it impressed Felicity, because he could use all the help he could get.  

The older man wore a wide smile as he extended his hand, calling out a cheerful, “Oliver!”

Oliver took it, though kind of wished he’d had the forethought to wipe it off on his pants first.   

Then, taking a deep breath, Oliver forced himself to take on comfortable persona of Mayor Queen and Moira’s son.  It was a relief, actually.  A script he knew the words to.  “Captain!  Thank you, again, for doing this.  It means so much to us.”

God bless his parents and the social graces Oliver had been trained in since birth, because otherwise he’d be a bumbling fool right now.

Captain Mitchell put a second hand over Oliver’s, effectively trapping it as he leaned in and said, “Only too happy, my boy.  Only too happy.  Ready to take the leap as they say?”

Oliver almost laughed.  Take the leap?  What a phrase!  It felt more like free-falling.  

But was he ready to get married?  “More than, sir.  Is Felicity…?”  

Fuck, Oliver didn’t even know what he was asking.

Thankfully, the Captain didn’t miss a beat, answering, “Only caught a quick glimpse of her on the way up, but let me assure you…you will _not_ be disappointed.”  He gave Oliver a little wink.

“I can’t imagine I will be.”  As long as Felicity didn’t run in the other direction, there was nothing she could do that would disappoint him.

Captain Mitchell stepped aside, greeting the other members of the wedding party and Oliver’s eyes, again, went back to searching the end of the runway, where he assumed the girls would be emerging.

Someone finally stepped out from between the wall of white.  The bright pinks and oranges of Donna’s dress stood out as she waved William over with a flurry of excited movement.  Oliver couldn’t make out her expression, but she didn’t look upset, so that was a good sign.  In fact, she seemed to radiate the happiness and enthusiasm that Oliver had always loved about her.

But more than that, Oliver loved the way she embraced William.  How she crouched down and talked to JJ.  Even from this distance he could see how enamored the boys were with her.  

There were flashes from the camera, first toward Oliver, then back at Donna and the boys, so Samantha seemed to be doing her job.  Donna and William seemed to be talking rather intensely and…God, Oliver wished he could see better.  But Samantha seemed to be capturing it for posterity so…

Christ, why did watching Felicity’s mother and _his_ son interact make him want to weep?

Then the music started in earnest.  The first strains of a melody.

William turned to Oliver and…it was really far away, but Oliver could see he was almost giddy with excitement.  

And, suddenly…so was Oliver.  Excitement bubbled up inside him until he could barely stand still.

Lyla stuck her head out from between the sailors, her eyes searching, skidding past both Oliver and her husband.  Oliver followed her gaze as she found Curtis and gave him a thumbs up.

Curtis grinned and returned the signal.  Then he turned to Oliver and said, “Let’s do this thing!”

Oh _God_.

Let’s do this thing.

Oliver was getting married.

_Now_.

Fuck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
>  
> 
> You all probably want to kill me right now.  I know this has been the longest wedding build up ever, but even if I had combined these chapters into a crazy long super chapter I wouldn’t have been able to get you the actual wedding any sooner.   Life has been kicking my but again.
> 
> The next two chapters are the ceremony (I told you it was so detailed you’d feel like you were there, didn’t I?).  I hope and pray 19 will be out next Sunday.  I’m doing my best, but I’m crazy behind and my Muse would much rather move on then finish these (massive edits).
> 
> **Speaking of which, I’m looking for input as to what I should work on this summer/spring, To Sacrifice the Sun or Another Kind of Island. I have a poll up on Twitter, to vote check it out[here](https://twitter.com/Emmilynestill/status/966412639025770496) Or, if you don’t have Twitter, you can always let me know here.**
> 
> On to the commentary part of the author’s note (feel free to skip it ;-).
> 
> I tackled 4x06 in this chapter.  I didn’t plan to, it just happened.  I know that is the episode that Olicity/Felicity Haters point to when they claim the relationship is “abusive” and “toxic.”  Personally, I just think it was real.  
> 
> I do think Felicity overreacted and took things out on Oliver that were not his fault.  I also think that pretty much _everyone_ does that at some point.  It’s normal and, dude, if you think that’s what makes a relationship abusive, then you have some really unrealistic expectations of a relationship (or are looking for a partner who is pathologically agreeable).  
> 
> I also think Oliver of 4x06, relationship novice as he was, made the _massive_ mistake of assuming it was his fault and not defending himself.   
> 
> I’m hoping that most people (because I know someone will be offended) see what I did here as not _blaming_ Felicity, but addressing the event in a humorous way and helping (this) Oliver understand better for the future.
> 
> “Outside Flush” is a reference to 4x03, where Felicity used an incorrect poker term with Curtis and many of us were annoyed because Felicity is canonly an excellent card player.  I hope this little scene satisfied those who asked to see her trounce the boys.  I just don’t know enough about poker and card counting to write the scene itself.
> 
> Card counting is _not_ illegal.  Casinos ban it for obvious reasons.  Is it cheating?  That’s up for debate.  Is it cheating when the only thing that gives you the advantage is intelligence, skill, and paying really good attention?  
> 
> Also, true card counting is only in Blackjack.  In Poker the deck is shuffled after each hand, so it’s even less likely to be considered cheating (some wouldn’t even call it card counting, just calculating statistics).
> 
> Thank you to **mariposablue9, Imusuallyobsessed** , **lageniuswannabe,** **Noelle** and **Ireland1733**  for all their help. It’s been invaluable.
> 
> Thanks for reading (don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it).
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> (Emmilynestill on Tumblr and Twitter)
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: (edited 1/1/2018)
> 
>  _(Don’t) Let Me Go_ should have 21 chapters (20 plus an epilogues from William’s pov). I’m finished with the first draft and hope to post the last seven chapters weekly. I plan to post every Sunday, late afternoon/evening. (BTW feedback definitely keeps me motivated to stay on schedule ;-))
> 
> I do have an offshoot, a two-shot, smutty off-shoot piece called _Best Birthday Ever_ , that’s now up.
> 
> The first five chapters weave in and out of Arrow Season 5, episodes 20-23. If you want a fun hiatus project, I invite you to rewatch them while reading (I did. Many, many times).
> 
> This story does NOT mean I am abandoning _Another Kind of Island_ or _To Sacrifice the Sun_. My fickle Muse aside, I would prefer to finish this one before going back to other projects because having the two huge WIPs is stressful enough.
> 
> HUGE thank you’s to my Beta team. **Fairytalehearts** , who never shies away from the tough critic and this (among other reasons) is why I love her! **Imusuallyobsessed** , who is always around to suss out idea and talk character and plot with. And my lovely, **Ireland1733** whose endless love and support makes it all worthwhile.
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/ and Twitter, also **Emmilynestill**. Sneak Peeks to the next chapter there every Thursday. Stop by to chat if you'd like.
> 
> I appreciate all comments and kudo and respond (eventually) to all. I seriously cannot wait to hear what you all think!
> 
> Happy Reading,
> 
> Emmy
> 
>  
> 
> [http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/](http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/%20)


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